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THE

HERO OF START POINT

/\ND OTHER STORIES

J, MACDONALD OXLEY

Author of

"ArchU McKcnvc- - Bert LloyJ-. HoyhooJ. " ■' DiamcJ Rock, - " Fergus

MacTa-ctih, " " In Ihc IIVA/s of the Wat Co,,it. " etc.

•5l

NOV 12^«^^ 1

v>^,, ^<^/

PHILADELPHIA

AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY ,^ p^ ^ yjj "^

1896

^-^

MWMw»4H«aMnAM*M»i»-W#^

ffrom tbc Society's own press

NOTE

Society

7'/ii' author hcs;! lo i\v/>irss /lis ob/is^afions to Missrs. lliirpcr &'
Bros., the American Baptist I'lihlimtion Society, and the pub-
lishers of ''Our Youth," " I Fide Awake," "The Christian
Union," " 7 he youths' Companion," and " The Sunday School
Times," in whose publications many of the folUnoing stories first

appeared. •

J. M. O.

-KgTfiT i Tn-t i \t t, i n mti } \im^m»im'

CONTENTS

TiiK IIhro ov Stakt I'oiNr, 7

A 1,1 nil. ItAY IIkkoink 19

Captain Hinnaclk's Lkctcke on Sea Terms Ashore, . 29

IIkau Downwark, 37

Caitght in Smucu-.i.kr's Cave, 4J

SoMETIIINCJ AHOUT TIIK SeA-SERI'ENT, 55

Cai'iain, Crew, and Pilot too 61

Never-dying Words, 71

In the Forefront ok the Fire, 77

lilTTKN IN THE HeEL 87

Eric's Ordeal 97

Stories of Animals and Birds, loj

Bright-Eyf^s, . . 119

The Puppy, the Hen, and the Big Dog, 125

MooLEY to the Rescue, 129

In the Footstei-s of Philii', 133

■UMMWB

tf CONTENTS

llnl.li ON, IlARdin! 141

I'llK I'.MSK TKsr AM) llIK 'IrIK I49

Kai.1'11 Wki. Dun's Rkiriii, 157

TitK C»H'KA(il'. AND CuURlKSV ol' A t'llKIMIAN, . . . 165

A Crkat 1>I':ai. of Nkrvk, 173

A Pair or Skatrs and a Hi ri.kv 179

SaNDV C'AMKRON 10 TIIE Rksci'k, 191

Savki> on tiik Krink, 203

TiiK Professor's Last Skatk 211

OvKR TIIK Dam, 219

A 'I'rio of Truf. Oiiost Storif:s, 227

Dennis Donaiuf.'s Dekd, 233

TiiK Rf^sci'e of Litti-e Jud 245

1 1.\>

141

'49

•57
105

'73
'79
191
203
211
219
227
233
24s

^
/'f.

*o\n!^.

Mnl lll.K. ; h.iw IM

like to liL' a Ir'Iii ! " i'\-

I laiiiu'd Saiiincl l'aii|ilr>tinc.

•♦"^iP^ ■■'■/ ~'jfc| Inukiii^ u|i with llashing eyes

'^■MtPr 'mp'' 11''" lii^ inotlier's face tVoin

j^jt^ iIh' lioiik ill wliii li ho liad

In'tii liir llu' hi^l htiiir read-
in;,' aliiiiii I,(ird \el>i>ii and the' lialile nf
'rral'al.uar.
" A lieid. Sam? \\li\. wtial put tlial into your
liead ? " iiii|uireil liis uiotlier kiudl\'.
"Oil. I want tiiliea lurn like Lord Nelson and have
everyltoily lUdud of ine. ]\\>\ think, mother, how
f,'rand it would he tor me to ha\e the i|ueen t;i\ing mc
honors, as Kin.L; (u'or.ne did to Lord Nelson !"

'• llul don't you think then' are hettrr \\a_\s ol' Wwv^
a hero than hein;,' a .ureal admiral or a lanious general,
Sam? I'iieir business is to kill jieojile. and the more
they kill the more renowned they hecome. Now. if I
wantetl to hi' a hero and win honors, 1 think I would
rather do it hy savinic peojiie's lives, like (Iraie Darling.
than h\' taking them, like your famous warriors. "

" Well, tluU'sso, mother," a;- • iited Sam, half regret-

s^WMb

i'i

THE HERO OE START POINT

fully. " Of course it's a great pity that 'here should
be big battles and lots of people killed; but 1 can't
help feeling as if I'd like to be some kind of a hero, all
the same."

"That's all right, Sam ; there's no harm in wanting
to be a hero, and [jcrhaps you'll have the chancx' to be
one some day; but don't be so foolish as to hang
about waiting for the chance to come. There are plenty
of heroes — and heroines too. Lucy," added Mrs.
I'applestine, turning to a girl a little younger than Sam,
who sat at a window, stitching busily, "that never get
honors from king or cjueen, but whose lives are full of
heroism, nevertheless, and who have honor in heaven
though they may be (juite unknown down here."

"I'm afraid I'm hardly strong enough to do what
Clrace Darling did, mother," said Lucy, looking out
from her window ')ver the vast expanse of wrinkled sea
that stretched away before her eyes until it mingled with
the distant sky. " But, Sam, I'm sure, is strong enough
for anything; and he can manage a boat so splendidly."

At this flattering remark Sam s])rang to his feet, drew
himself up to his full height, and looked remarkably
like a young rooster just about to crow, but before he
could say what was on his lips his father came into the
room, and they all sat down to tea, thus putting an
end to the conversation.

Samuel Papplestine's father was the keeper of the
light at Start Point, and if you want to find where that
is you must take a ma]) of England and look cnrefully
along its southern shore until you come to the County

OINT

THE HERO OF S^ART POINT

that 'here should
led ; but 1 can' t
:ind of a hero, all

I harm in wanting
the chanrc to be
olish as to hang
There are plenty
y," added Mrs.
ounger than Sam,
, ' ' that never get
:; lives are full of
honor in heaven
own here."
lough to do what
l.ucy, looking out
ie of wrinkled sea
til it mingled with
:, is strong enough
at so splendidly."
g to his feet, drew
3oked remarkably
iw, but before he
ler came into the
, thus putting an

he keeper of the
to find where that
ind look cnrefully
ne to the County

of Devon. Once you have found Devon you can't
miss Start Point, it thrusts itself so boldly out into the
ocean, being the list bit of terra firma visible to voy-
agers outward bound and the first to those returning
homeward. The Devon coast is very rocky and danger-
ous all about this neighborhood, the cliffs ri.iing in some
places to a height of nearly two hundred feet, their
long, stern lines only here and there breaking into little
bays, which make snug havens where the ocean billows
may foam out their strength harmlessly ujjon the yellow
sands instead of thunderins madly at the foot of the
crag!^ that have been the destruction of many a stately
ship and precious life.

Start Point Light stands right out upon the extreme
end of the Point, sending its friendly gleams that are
so welcome to the mariner ftir over the ever-tossing
waters of the Pjiglish Channel. So close is it to the
edge of the cliff that you might almost jump from one
of the seaward windows clear down to the ' ' cold gray
stones," u])on which the waves ceaselessly "break,
break, break." It would not be a wise thing to do,
and theie would be small chance of one's surviving to
relate his experience, but an active fellow, like Sam
Papplestine for instance, might accomplish the feat at a
pinch. In fact, there were times when Sam, standing
by the open window and listening to old ocean's
thunder far below him, felt half tempted to try it.
Fortunately, however, for himself, and also for some
other pecjple, Sam was never more than half tempted,
and that of course amounts to r.othing.

THE HERO OF START I'UlNT

The top of the chff was fairly level, and bein.j covered
with deep turf, made good lands for crops and cattle,
of which Mr. Fapplestine took advantage lo have ([uite
a fine little farm, that he worked on when liis ligiilhouse
duties were performed. Sam was a great iielp "to him
in looking after the farm, lor he was a big, strong,
sturdy lad of fourteen now, and liked nothing better
than working away with nis father after the school hours
were over. Lucy too, thougii only twelve, did her
share by helping her mother in the care of the dairy,
the fowl-yard, r.nd the garden, so Lhat altogether they
were a very busy, hapi)y, and cuuiented fami!\

At one side of the Point the cliffs opened their grim
jaws to make a tiny bay that was a blessed haven of
refuge to many an endangered shi)). and here Sam
found the great enjoyment of iiis life in sailing or row-
ing the trim little boat given him by his father in reward
for his work on the farm. He always had t'he whole of
Saturday to himself, his father wisely thinking that five
days' work in the week was <iuite enough for any bo\-.
and there was not a happier lad in all luigland than
Sam Fapplestine when, on a bright, sunny Saturday
morning, with his dinner packed in lis school-bag on
his back, he would set forth for a whole long chi\- on the
water in comi)any with some of !iis playmates at the
Kingsbridge Grammar School. in rowing, sailing,
swimming, or hunting for caves among the tliifs, the
golden hours would pass all too q.iicl 'y. and the setting
sun warn them that it was time to be going home, long
before they were tired of thei;- f-jn. ikit then., of

THE HERO OF START POINT

:\ bein.j covered

•ops and eatlle,

e U) have (|iiite

n liis liglulioiise

:at lielp lo him

a l)i^^ strong,

notliin^' lieUer

he scliool liours

uelve, did her

re 61' tlie dairy,

altogether they

family

ened their grim
lessed haven of
and here Sam
sailing or row-
father in reward
ad the whole of
inking that fi\e
ifli for any Ixjy,
11 England than
sunny Saturday
s school-bag on
long day on the
laymates at the
rowing, sailing,
,r the cliffs, the
and the setting
)ing home, long
But then, of

course, th?it made them look forward only the more
eagerly to the next Saturday.

In the long simimer evenings, when there were those
wonderful twilights which are peculiar to dear old Eng-
land, Sam would often be honored 1>\- having his father
and mother and Lucy as passengers on board his boat,
and then how proudly he would row them up and down
the bay and out to the narrow mouth, where they
would be tumbled about a bit, rather to Lucy's alarm,
by the ocean's swell.

After this pleasant fashion the summer of 1866 had
passed away, and autumn, with its cool, cloudy days
and frequent storms, had come. The work upon the
farm was nearly finished, and there were no more de-
lightful Saturdays down in the bay. IVKmy a night did
Mr. Papplestine spend in the lighthouse tower or pac-
ing up and down the cliff-edge looking out across the
angry billows for the danger signals that would mean
deadly i)eril to shij) and seamen. No light-keeper was
more faithful to his duties than he, none had a kinder
heart or was cjuicker in giving aid tc any who might be
in danger ; and so when one dark, threatening Novem-
ber morning a letter came summoning him to Kings-
bridge on some important business which would keep
him there all night, he was a long time making up his
mind to go, for he did not like the idea of leaving Sam
and his mother to look after the light in that kind of
weather. Had it been midsummer he would have
thought nothing of it. Mrs. Papplestine, however,
persuaded him to go, saying that she and Sam would

THE HERO OF START POINT

Stay up all night together, and if they saw any danger
signals would send word immediately to the coast-guard
station, three miles off.

So, with a good deal of misgiving and many injunc-
tions to his wife and son, Mr. Fapplestine set out that
afternoon, promising to be home the very first thing in
the morning.

Sam felt as proud as Punch at being left in charge,
for of course, as the only man in the house, he consid-
ered that the chief burden of responsibility fell upon
him, and so when night came, with a very important face
h' made many a tour of the lamps, inspecting each one
carefully, and between-whiles gazing earnestly out over
the water from the front windows. A storm which had
suddenly come up, broke forth shortly after sundown
and reached its height by midnight, the wind raging
about the lighthouse tower with terrible fury and the
rain pouring down like a scattered cataract.

The long night wore slowly away and the darkest
hour of all, that which is just before the dawn, had
come, when Sam, dozing for a moment in his chair, was
suddenly awakened by a call from his mother, who had
been looking out the front window.

"Sam, Sam, come here ! I think I saw a signal of
distress."

Sam sprang to his feet and rushing to the window,
peered eagerly out, but could see nothing but the dark-
est of darkness.

" Must have been mistaken, mother," said he. •»!
can't even see any lights."

THE HERO OK ST.ART POINT

;aw any danger
:he coast-guard

I many injunc-
e set out that
■y first thing in

left in charge,
use, he consid-
lility fell upon
important face
icting each one
lestly out over
arm which had
after sundown
e wind raging
i fury and the
:t.

id the darkest
he dawn, had
1 his chair, was
ther, who had

aw a signal of

the window,
; but the dark-

said he.

"Oh, no. I'm perfectly certain I saw a rocket or
Roman candle or something of that kind," replied his
mother. •' Yes, see ! There it goes again '. "

And sure enough, a thin, sharp streak of flame rising
from somewhere amid the tossing surges, split the dark-
ness like a flash of lightning and then vanished.

" That's the danger signal, mother, and no mistake,"
cried Sam. "The ship's coming right toward us.
She'll strike on the Point before long. I must go to the
cliff and see if I can make her out."

"Be careful, then, Sam dear," said his mother,
"and don't do anything without letting me know."

Sam buttoned up his coat, pulled his cap down hard
upon his head and sallied forth into the storm, which
well-nigh took his breath away. But he struggled man-
fully against it until he reached a sheltered nook in the
cliffs, whence it was possible to look out seaward.

For some time he could see nothing save the danger
signals that continued to be sent up. Then, as the
darkness began to lighten before the approach of day,
he was able to faintly discern a large vessel lying help-
lessly, upon one of the cruel ledges which jut out from
the Point, while the great billows were making a clean
breach over her. At first nothing could be seen of the
unfortunate crew, but as the light grew stronger he made
out one and then another clinging fast to the rigging,
and looking more like flies than human beings. Sam
knew well enough that they could not stay there long,
for the vessel must soon go to pieces. He quickly de-
termined what to do. Hastening back to his mother he

THE HKRO OF START I'OINT

told her what he had seen, asked her to wake i:p Lucy
and send her off for tlie coast-guard, while he himself
ran to the barn, gatlicred together a lot of good strong
roi)e he knew to be there, and bringing it back to the
house, he and his mother tied it together, bit by bit, until
they had more than a hundred feet. This they took
down to the edge of the cliff, and fastening one end
securely to a jutting peak, flung the other over so that
it fell into the water nearly one hundred feet below.

But what did all this mean ? Of what use was that
rope to the imperiled men clinging for life to the bat-
tered hull a full {juarter of a mile away ? Ah, Sam had
not lived fourteen years at Start Point Light for nothing.
He knew every ledge, rock, and current as well as he did
his alphabet, and his quick eye had shown him that if
the men were washed off the wreck they would be
tossed by the pitiless waves against the foot of the cliff
right below where he was standing, and if not rescued
at once would perish miserably.

Well, but how did he propose to rescue them ?
Surely not by chmbing down that slender rope in the
face of such a storm and helping them when they came
within his reach ? Precisely. All unexpectedly the
chance his mother spoke of had come, and the purposes
of his boyish heart were as heroic now as any that ever
stirred in the heart of a Nelson.

Presently what Sam expected took ulace. An enor-
mous breaker swept over the half-subi lerged hull, and
tearing two of the seamen from their jilace in the rig-
ging, bore them like mere chips toward the cliff.

THE HERO OF START I'OINT

ivake 1:0 Lucy
ilc lie himself
)f good strong
it back to the
jit by bit, until
'his they took
ning one end
;r over so that
feet below.
: use was that
fe to the bat-
Ah, Sam had
It for nothing,
well as he did
vn him that if
ley would be
»ot of the cliff
if not rescued

rescue them ?
r rope in the
len they came
xpectedly the
i the purposes
any that ever

:e. An enor-
•ged hull, and
,ce in the rig-
he cliff.

" C)h, Sam dear, I'm afraid. It's a dreadful dan-
gerous thing for you to ilo : " exclaimed Mrs. Tapple-
stinc nervously, as Sam grasping the rope, prepar* d to
descent!.

"Never fear, motlicr, I'm all safe. I wi)n't let go
of the rope," answered Sam, as he tlisappeared over
the ed^a' of the cliff and descended swiftly, holding the
ro[ie tightly in both hands and bracing his feet against
the rugged face of the rock. Hand over hand he went
down until at length, at the bottom, he reac bed a nar-
row ledge which afforded him a precarious foothold.
U'itiiout the aiil of the rope he could not have stayed
therv-" a moment, for the spray s])rang high over his
head, and every now and then a wave would strike
fiercely at him. Once, indeed, a particularly big fellow
swept him clear off liis feet, and for a moment he
tliought it was all over with him. for several yards of
tiie wet rope slipped through his ingers almost before
he knew it. Hut, gripping the her.ip with all his might,
he soon checked himself, and then, taking advantage of
the next incoming wave, regained his perch.

He (lid so just in time, for ho had hardly '^otten a
firm foothold when, looking out through the olinding
si)ray. lie saw the two sailors coming toward him amid
the waves. He shouted ai the top of his voice. They
heard him and struck out in his direction. Then down
they went into the trough of the sea out of sight. Up
thev :ame again, fighting bravely for their lives. Thus
sinkmg and rising they drew near until they were at
Sam's feet. Here they narrowly escaped being hurled

TllK HEKO OF START TOFNT

with fatal force upon the cruel rocks, but tl.eir sailor
ninihleiicss stood them in good stead, and grasping
Sam's outstretched hand, in another moment both were
standing beside him on the ledge, and all three holding
on to the rope for dear life.

While this was going on Lucy had been speeding to-
wartl the coast-guard station for assistance, l-ortunately
she had not gone half-way before she met the guard
hastening to the I'oint, for the danger signals had been
observed by them. Pressing on as fast as they could,
they came to where Mrs. rajjplestine knelt beside the
TO\)c praying for the safety of her boy.

"Thank dod,' you've come !" she cried, as the
guard ran up. "Quick, now, fasten another rope to
the rock and send one of the men down. ' '

"Aye, aye!" answered the captain of the guard
cheerily.

With practised speed a strong rope was' made fast,
the end flung over the cliff, and one of the men sent
down. Reaching the ledge he found Sam and the two
sailors clinging fast to their rope and wondering when
succor would come to them.

"All right, my hearties !" shouted the coast-guard.
"You're safe now. They'll send another rope down
presently."

Sure enough, down came the rope, having a sling at
the end by which, one after another, Sam and the
sailors were drawn uj) to the top, where Mrs. Fap[)le-
stine clasped her boy to her heart with tears of joy
brimming her eyes.

•

SIT

but tl.cir sailor
, and grasping
iiicnt both were
II three hulding

;n speeding to-
e. Fortunately
met the guard
gnals had been
as they could,
lelt beside the

cried, as the
lother rope to
1."
of the guard

kvas made fast,
f the men sent
im and the two
ondering when

e coast-guard,
ler rope down

ving a sling at

Sam and the

•i Mrs. Pa|)ple-

h tears of joy

THE IIF.RO or START I'OINT

Severe as his exertions had been, .Sam was little the
worse for them, and he did not leave the spot until he
had the satisfaction of .seeing every one of the crew
rescued in just the same way as the two men who owed
their lives to him.

The fame of so gallant a .leed of course (piickly
spread. First of all the neigliborliood was I'llled with
it. 'I'hen the newspapers took it up, and finally it
reached the ears of the (^ueen of l-Jigland. l'i( turc t(j
yourself, then, the astonishment of the light-keeper and
his family when one f ne day a message came from Her
(Iracious Majesty that slie desired to reward the bravery
of Master Samuel I'applestine, a full report of whicii
had reached her ears. In accordance therewith, with
her own royal hands she had sent him the Xidoria
and Albert medal.

Ah, that was a proud day for Sam and all belonging
to him. When he opened the rich morocco ( asc luid
showed them the gold, oval-sliaped badge bearing the
royal monogram of V and A, interlaced with an anchor
and surrounded by a bronze garter having upon it in
letters of gold the significant words, " For gallantry in
saving life at sea," his mother threw her arms about his
neck and jjressing a kiss upon his forehead said, with
deep emphasis :

"Sam, darling, do you remember your talk about
wishing to be a hero like Nelson? Wouldn't you now,
rather be the hero of Start Point than the 'k ■ 1 of
Trafalgar?"

"Right you are, mother," replied Sam. "But if

THE IIEKO OF START I'OINT

Queen Victoria ever wants mc to fight for her like Lord
Nelson did, I'll be ready."

Many a proud moment came to Sam afterward as he
would open the case and ga/e at the handsome medal.
It helped to keep him manly always. A hoy who had
been deiorated by his ipieen could not be other than
brave and true.

'T like Lord

rward as hv
line medal.
yy who had
other than

^LITTLE BAY HFROIhf^J.M

■\.

A'l'Hl'.R. I "lease let me
go with you tills trip. \'oii
have often promised to take
me, and 1 do want so nun h
to go." 'I'hns pleading, I,i//.ie
I'ilgrim looked up eagerly int(j
^J the brown-bearded, weather-
tanned face of Captain Tilgrim, of the
Little Hay fisliing schooner, " ("od-seeker. "
"Tut, Lizzie, aboard ship's not the place
for girls. V'ou are much better at home.
You'd only be in the way. What could
you do to make yourself useftd, I'd like to
know?" said her father, smiling kindly upon

her.

" Why, lots," rei)licd I,izzie jiromptly.
"I could set tiie table, wash the
dishes, make your bed, and plenty
- other things. Do take me; that's
-J a de.-ir, kind father I"

"So you would like to be our
little stewardess, eh? Just fourteen

A LITFLE UAV HEROINE

years old and eager to liiro out already," laughingly
said Captain Tilgiiui. "Very well, l.i//ie, since yn.i
want to go so badly, you can come this trip ; but mind
you, it's not the tun you scein to think it is."

"You're a dear, darling lather ; that's just what you
arc ! " chirped the delighted girl, giving the captain an
ecstatic hug. "I'll just be the best stewardess yuu
ever had; see if I don't ! And now 1 must go anil
tell mother right off." Whereupon she slid over the
side of the schooner to the wharf and s( ampered off as
fast as her legs could carry her, her father fondly look-
ing after her and saying half aloud to him; di :

"She's a chip of the old block, and no mistake.
She takes to the water as naturally as a sea gull."

Lizzie Pilgrim hurried up the rude wharf and along
the village street until she came to a cozy white cot-
tage, into which she danced, shouting merrily :

"I'm going with father, I'm going with father!
Get my chest ready, mother. I'm going with father

this trip!"

Mrs. Pilgrim came out from the kitchen, where she
had been making bread, with her arms floured to the

elbows.

"Did father say you could go?" she queried half

incredulously.

"Yes, mother, and I'm to be stewardess; so get my
things ready," answered Lizzie exultantly.

'< Well, I must say I don't quite like the idea of your
going out in the schooner, Lizzie ; but since your father
said you could go, I suppose you'll have to. I'm glad

laughingly
, since yi)u
; t)iit mind

St what you

.' captain an

vardt'SH you

Hist go and

lid over the

ipered off as

fondly look-

-•If;

no mist.ike.

gull."

■f and along

;y white cot-

■ily:

,vith father !

; with father

I, where she
oured to the

queried half

s ; so get my

; idea of your
:e your father
:o. I'm glad

A LITTLE BAY IIKKOINE

the weather's so good, anyway. Not much ( lumce of
a storm this month." .\nd Mrs. I'ilgriin glanced out
of the window toward llic bay, whose lilu«' waters lay
sleeping in the sununcr sunshine as though they could
never do the slightest harm to anybody.

\.\/./.\c I'ilgrim was the only child who had come In
the big captain and his comely jiartner, and never was
daughter more dearly loved, liut she had not been
s')oiled for all that, for Mrs, Tilgrim was just as sen-
sible as she was affectionate, inheriting her father's
sturdiness and her mother's good looks, l,i/./ie was at
fourteen a very attractive girl and, thanks to her bright,
haiyi)y, unselfish nature, the greatest favorite in the
village.

The crew of the "Cod-seeker" were delighted when
they heard that the captain's lassie, as they called her,
was to go with them.

" I'll bet my best boots we'll take a fine fare this
trip," said Yankee Joe, "for we're bound to have
good luck with Lizzie on board."

And so it proved, Their course was along the Labra-
dor coast, and it really seemed as if the fish were fol-
lowing the schooner, instead of the schooner having to
follow the fish. Out in the deep water the cod and
haddock came tumbling aboard, while inshore the seines
again and again took hundred-barrel hauls of fine, fat
mackerel. All on board were in high spirits, and none
more so than Captain Pilgrim himself, who was con-
stantly telling Lizzie that she had brought him the best
luck he had ever known.

pil

A LITTI-E BAY HEROINE

Meanwhile Lizzi.^ had been faithfully keepi.ig her
part of the bargain, as far as being stewardess was rcMi-
cerned. Never w.re the dishes so clean, the tins si)
bright, the table so neat, or the captain's cabin kept in
such perfect order as now. And, besides all this, the
little woman's eyes were always open to see how the
sails were managed, the vessel steered, and the rest of
the work done on board her father's schooner. She
was particularly fond of watching the anchor dive with
a great splash into the water when they " lay to " for
a night in some cpiiet cove, and then listening to the
merry "yo heave ho" of the men, and the clink-clank
of the windlass as the anchor was being weighed the
following morning.

When the "Cod-seeker" had been out not more
than three weeks her hold was almost full. Another
week of the same good fortune and, with a.fiire that
meant plenty of money in everybody's pockets, the
schooner would be bowling merrily back to Little Bay,
when she came to anchor one night in Fish Bay.

The next morning dawned rather dark and lowering,
but by breakfast time it had cleared off somewhat and
the day looked more promising. Lizzie, who had got-
ten through with her breakfast before the others, hap-
pened to run up on deck for a minute, and imn-J^i-
ately came rushing back almost breathless with c.n.cu^
ment, crying out :

" Quick, father, quick ! The bay is full of fish ! "
Captain Pilgrim sprang hurriedly on deck, followed
by the whole crew vvho, of course, never thought of

kecpi.ig her
less was coii-
, the tins so
L'abin kept in
1 all this, the
see how the
id the rest of
looner. She
hor dive with
• ' lay to ' ' for
ening to the
le clink-clank
weighed thfi

jut not more
.ill. Another
h a.fiire that

pockein. the
to Little Bay,
ih Bay.
and lowering,
somewhat and

who had got-
i others, hap-

and imiiiO'li-
is with cxciit

ill of fish !"
leek, followed
er thought of

A LITTLE BAY HEROINE

Stopping to finish their meal, and there, sure enough,
half-way between the schooner and the shore, the
water was fairly black w=th a splendid school of mack-
erel glittering in the sunlight as they plowed the water
with their pointed heads. All was hurry and bustle
then on board the "Cod-seeker." The dories were
hoisted over the sides, the oars and nets flung pell-mell
into them, and within five minutes every man on board
was ready for the fray, the captain being the last to
leave the vessel, giving his dau-hter a warm kiss as he
went over the side, and saying tenderly :

" Now, little woman, take good care of yourself and
the schooner till we come back. Don't be frightened
at our leaving you, dear, for we won't go out of your
sight."

"Frightened, father? Not a bit of it ! I'll have
too much to do watching you to be frightened," said
Lizzie, as she skipped lightly to her station on top of
the cabin, whence a clear view of the whole proceed-
ings could be had. And what a lively scene it was !
As swiftly as the men could row, and as silently too
(for the mackerel must not be alarmed, lest they sink
down into the deep water), the two boats, with the
seine stretching between them, described a circle around
the fish leaping and playing about, all unconscious of
their danger.

Presently a triumphant shout announced that con-
nection had been made and the circle completed. The
fish were hopelessly surrounded. Dart hither and
thither as frantically as they might, their beautiful sil-

I ■

Lml

A LITTLE BAY HEROINE

vered scales gleaming through the water, the.e .vas no
escape for them. Then, all the dories drawing near,
the task of towing the seine, with its precious contents,
into shallow water began. It was slow work, and din-
ner time came and went unheeded by the men, too
intent ui)on their toil to feel the pangs of hunger, so
that it did not matter much if the little stewardess for-
got her duties for once while she followed every move-
ment of the boats with eager eyes.

IJefore the work was half over the wind began to rise
rapidly, and the clouds all came back again ; but
neither the busy men nor the watching gir' noticed this
until, with a suddenness that is seen only too often
upon the bleak Labrador coast, a fierce squall came
sweeping in from the East, and almost in an instant the
bay was broken up in white-capped waves, and the
schooner began to pitch and toss and tear at her moor-
ing chain as though she were fretting to be fret.

Quickly catching the alarm, Captain Pilgrim shouted
to his men not to mind the fish but to save the net if
possible, and then seizing one oar while his stoutest
sailor grasped the other, he turned his dory's bow
toward the schooner, a full mile away. But to his in-
tense alarm he found that the light, flat-l.<ottomed boat
could make no headway in such a sea. Toil and try as
they might, the billows buffeted tlie little craft as though
it were a mere chip and, finally overturning it, cast it
ui) contemptuously upon the beach, leaving the caj^tain
and his companion to struggle ashore, drenched to the
skin and well-nigh exhausted.

the.t .vas no
rawing near,
)us contents,
rk, and tlin-
le men, too
f hunger, so
iwardess for-
every move-
began to rise
again ; but
noticed this
ly too often
squall came
n instant the
^es, and the
at her moor-
fret.

;rim shouted
vn the net if
his stoutest
dory's how
ut to his in-
ttomed boat
)il and try as
ift as though
ig it, cast it
[ the ca]>tain
iched to the

A LITTLE DAY HEROIXE

ajf

The other boats were treated in lii<e manner, and ere
long the entire crew were standing upon the beach gaz-
ing with intense anxiety at the schooner upon which the
little woman they all loved so well was now left alonw
in the midst of imminent peril.

"God save my darling ! " groaned the captain. " If
the anchor drags, what will become of her ? ' '

And the anchor does drag ! Only too plainly the
agonized watchers on shore can see that the tremendous
strain upon the siiort It'ngth of cable played out is prov-
ing too much, and that slowly yet surely the vessel is
drawing near a rocky point over which the furious bil-
lows ate breaking with pitiless force. If the "Cod-
seeker" strikes that point tiiere can be no rescue either
for her or for poor little Lizzie. The (aptain can do
nothing but look on helplessly and pray for (iod to
interpose somehow, while the darling of his heart drifts
steadily to her doom.

Meantime how was it with Lizzie ? Frightened at first
almost to the verge of distraction by the sudden onset
of the storm and her father's vain efforts to reach hor,
shi; u;'ve herself up to the overmastering terror, calling
out frantically : "Father, father! come to me, save
me I " calling so loud and clear as even to make herself
heard above the roar of the blast, every cry adding
fresh pangs to her father's misery, 'i'hen realizing how
useless this was, she grew calmer, and !o ! there stole
gently into her heart, as if whispered by her guardian
angel, the words she had so nften sung with her mother
at home :

rrr

""""^^B^^^^^I^piK

A LITTLE BAY HEROINE

While llie nearer waters roll,
While the lempest still is high.

■J

Whereat her fear seemed to leave her, and again the
angel whispered, this time suggesting :

"Pay out all the cable. Perhaps the anchor will
hold then."

The schooner was rearing and plimging like a mad
thing, her bow going imder every minute, and the
spray sweeping clear across her decks. But dauntless
Lizzie crept carefully down from the cabin and along
the slippery deck, holding hard to the bulwarks, until
she reached the windlass. She knew perfectly well
what to do, for often had she watched the men pay out
more chain when they found the mooring too short.
The foaming waves sprang at her and drenched her to
the skin. They dashed into her face and alinost smoth-
ered her, but they could not comjuer her. (Irasping
the loose end of the chain, she lifted it up from its bed
in the bows and, with a "clink-clank" that thrilled
her heart with hope, the barrel of the windlass revolved
and the straining cable began to run out. Putting forth
all her strength she [)uiled u)) the chain link by link
while it payed out steadily at the other end until fathom
after fathom had been added to the length of the moor-
ing, and the schooner drew still nearer to the fatal
breakers.

Not knowing what his uaughter was about, but
noticing her disappearance from the poop, the captain
cried out in anguish :

ligh.

and again the

he anchor will

ing like a mad
iniite, and the
Hut dauntless
abin and along
bulwarks, until
■ perfectly well
he men pay out
ring too short.
Irenched her to
d almost smoth-
her. Grasping
up from its bed
" that thrilled
indlass revolved
;. Putting forth
ain link by link
:nd until fathom
gth of the moor-
rer to the fatal

ivas about, but
)op, the captain

A LITTLE BAY HEROINE

" My God, Lizzie's gone I Has she been washed
overboard ? ' '

No one could answer liini. and presently one of the
sailors, observing the increased rapidity of the schoon-
er's drift shoreward, exclaimed :

"The anchor's slipped ! She's going on the break-
ers !"

Tortured with indescribable anxiety they were watch-
ing llie schooner as it seemed to hasten to destruction
when, after a never-to-be-forgotten minute of alternat-
ing hope and fear, Captain Pilgrim shouted :

"Hurrah! She holds, she holds! The anchor's
caught 'afj-iin !"

And he was right. Working with might and main
lizzie had not paused until full twenty fathoms were
added to the cable's length, and then, with a joy that
went throbbing through all her pulses, she felt tliat the
anchor had stopped scraping along the bottom, and
was taking a good, firm grip.

Relieved by the lengthened mooring the schooner no
longer plunged bows under, but rose and fell easily with
the waves. Unless the anchor slipjjcd again, both
Lizzie and the schooner were safe, 'i'he moment she
was sure the anchor held, Lizzie ran back to her place
on the poop and, standing upon tiptoe, waved her
handkerchief to the group on shore in token of her
safety. The signal was immediately seen, and a cheer
that even the storm could not drown came back to the
schooner.

The squall raged on, and at length raged itself out,

A LITTLE BAY HEROINE

dying down almost as rapidly as it had sp- ung u;^. The
white caps disappeared, the dories, driven by impatient
rowers, made their way swiftly to the schooner. 'I'he
lirst to leap on board was Cajitain Pilgrim and, as with
streaming eyes he clasped his daughter to his heart, he
cried out through ipiivering lips :

"God bless you, my noble girl ! Let us kneel right
down and thank him who hear! our prayers."

yVnd kneeling there with all his men around him, the
stalwart captain, in words broken with emotion, gave
thanks for the wonderful deliverance.

•ling u[>. The
:n by impatient
[■•hoonci. The
m and, as with
o his heart, he

L us ivneel right
yers."

round him, the
emotion, gave

©aptoin linriaclc'w

1^ lec>aTe oTv,

I 1 ■» T

SUPl'OSK

hardly any one
among my readers will
have the least idea what
the letters B. 15. M. I. C.
stand for. They are not
jlV.'' * ^: i^^^i^ the mystic symbol of

i\Jjf'' [ some secret society with

'^'^ Most Worthy (Irand Panjan-

drums, Supreme High Cocko-
lorums, and other imposing officials, such
as all boys delight in at one time or an-
other, but they mean simply the Bluenose
Boys' Mutual Improvement Club ; and with
the kind permission of Will Morrow, its en-
ergetic president, I am going to invite all
who care to listen, to be present at one of
the meetings of this very excellent society.
Of course you can accept the invitation in mind only,
''o it will not matter if you fail to find the city of Che-
bucto on any map in your geographies. Perhaps it
does not go by that name nowadays. At all events,

CAITAIN UINNACLES LECTURIC

Chebucto is a great place for boys, and the Mutual
Improvement Club has among its members a number
of the briglitest boys in the city, who meet on Satur-
day evi-nings at the home of each in turn, and have
readings, tlialogues, and debates among themselves,
and once a month a short lecture from one of the old
folks upon some subject in which they can all take an
interest.

Chebucto is a great place not only for boys, but also
for shii)s and sailors. It boasts one of the finest har-
bors in the world, and there are hundreds of vessels
and thousands of sailors in i)ort almost all the year
round ; which fully explains why Chebucto boys are so
fond of the sea. and take such a lively interest in
everything connected with the bronzed and brawny
men who do business upon the great waters. When,
therefore. Will Morrow announced that his father had
asked Captain Binnacle, the commander of one of Mr.
Morrow's steamers, to give the club a short lecture on
some nautical subject at the next monthly meeting, the
boys were all delighted, and resolved to give the cap-
tain p. hearty reception.

This is the meeting to which I am permitted to in-
vite you, and so I will now introduce Captain liinnacle
— a renowned master of ships — who has spent a life-
time on the ocean, and by making good use of his spare
time has become one of the best-informed, as he is
certainly one of the best-looking, skippers in the mer-
chant service.

The captain began by saying that while everybody

ON SEA TKRMS ASHORE

the Mutual
s a number
;t on Satur-
I, and have
tliemsclves,
L- of the old
I all take an

)ys, but also
; finest har-
Is of vessels
all the year
boys are so
interest in
and brawny
•rs. When,
s fatlier had
f one of Mr.
rt lecture on
meeting, the
;ive the cap-

nitted to in-
ain liinnade
spent a Hfe-
; of his spare
led, as he is
in the mer-

e everybody

loved Jack, the sailor, because he was such a frank,
manly, generous kind of chap, not many people knew
what a number of words and phrases Jack liad in-
vented and they liad appropriated, and were using
every day of their lives. He thought it was (piite time
lack was given his due in this maU.'r.

" 'i'he first word I will take is 'mainstay.' \ou
have all heard this expression, ' She is the mainstay of
the house,' or, ' He is the mainstay of the business,'
but ])erhaps it never occurred to you that the word
' mainstay ' has come ashore, meaning when afloat tlie
great steel or hempen hawser which slants forward from
the maimiiast of the ship down to the deck, and keeps
the mast stiff and steady, no matter how hard the wind
may blow.

" Some day or other, not for a good many years per-
haps, you will take a deep interest in another word
lack has been good enough to invent for you, and that
is 'spliced.' When two people are brave enough to
get married, their friends may say they are 'spliced,'
and you have only to watch a sailor making what he
calls a splice to understand how appropriate the word
is to matrimony.

"When you grow up to be men, and go into busi-
ness on your own account, I trust you will never have
reason to know what it is to be ' thrown on your beam-
ends.' For a ship to be on her beam-ends is to be in
a very ugly and dangerous position indeed. It can
only happen in some dreadful storm, and it means that
instead of riding over the waves on an even keel, the

CAPTAIN niNNACLF.'S LKCTL'RF.

unliuky vessel is lyinj; over i.n lier side until her yards
dip in tlie water, and lier det k slopes worse than the
roof of a house. She cannot stay in that position
k.nn. The masts must be < ut away and the vessel
righted, or down she \..il go with all on board. That
is just the situation business men sometimes fmd them-
selves in when a finandal hurricane heaves them tlown
until they are almost ready to sink into the depths ot
insolven.y. Another unpleasant experience is bemg
• hard-up.' Probably you have all had a taste of that.
For a ship's helm to be put ' hard-up.' that is, as far as
it will possibly go to port or starboar<l. means that there
i,. some danger in the road, a heavy s.pudl commg on.
or breakers ahead, or the sudden appearam. of an-
other vessel right across her tra. k. The word does not
bear precisely the same meaning on shore nowadays,
but as being ' hard-up ' imi.lies being in diffu ulties. so
far as both men i>nd ships are concerned, ' you can
easily see the force of the phrase.

«' All the ladies like sailors, because they know right
well that no man has a more lively admiration for them
than lack ; but there are very few of them, I'll wager,
have the least idea that when they say, ' I was really
quite taken aback, my dear,' they are in debt to Jack
for those very expressive words A ship is ' taken
aba(-k ' by a sudden change in the wind which, instead
of bellying out the canvas and bowling her merrily along,
chops round and bangs the sails up against the mast so
that the vessel comes to a standstill. And the very
same thing often happens among people. Things are

\L.

ON SKA TERMS ASHORE

il her yards
sc tlian tlif
lat position

tiic vessel
i>ard. That
s find theiii-

theni down
he deptiis of
ice is being
taste of that.
It is, as l;ir as
ills that there
I coining on,
rancv. of an-
ord does not
re nowadays,
Jiffunlties. so
ed, ' you can

L'y know right
ition for them
m, I'll wager,

' I was really

debt to Jack
lip is ' taken
which, instead

merrily along,
ist the mast so

And the very
:. Things are

going along smoothly when, |)iil'f — a rude remark, a
sudden show of temper, and somebody is sure to be
'taken abai k,' miicii to iiis discomfort.

" Tiiere are two faxorite expressions of Jaik wlii( ii
every boy who has any respe( t fi^r liimself must take
care never to have truthfully aiii)lied to him, namely,
that he is given to being 'slewed,' and to 'spinning
twisters.' To slew means to turn, and thercrfore to say
that a man is 'slewed,' signifies that lie is turned the
wrong way by drink, a state into wlii( h |)oor Jack is
only too apt to get himself when he is ashore with
plenty of pay in his pocket. ' He is a great hand at
s|)inning a twister,' is a remark often made about
jieople who are fond of telling long stories whii li, while
not altogether lies, are so full of exaggerations as to
leave very sianty storage room for the truth, and the
origin of the phrase is this : I'.very ship has on board a
little machine known as the 'spun-yarn winch,' with
which the sailors make a small kind of rope (afled
'siHin-yarn,' which is useful in a hundred different
ways. This winch twists up the yarns together, and
they are then stretched along at great length, from the
fo'cs'le to the poop perhaps; so that 'spinning a
twister' and 'spinning a long yarn' have had the same
birthplace.

"Then the lawyers and the politicians — some of you
lads are sure to be both later on — are in special debt to
Jack also. They often speak about there being ' a hitch
in the arrangement,' when some difficulty occurs in a
matter they have in hand ; and it is a very good way

CAFIAIN IllNNACr.K'S I.F.CTL'RF,

of piitliiiK il. lor a liiuh is a knot c.r turn in a rope
\vlu< li prevents it from traveling! or nimiint; out freely,
lack has several kinds of tiiesc hitihcs, such as ' liall-
liitih.' 'clove-iiitch.' ' tiinl)er-hit(:li.' and so on. eat li
iiavin^; its own special use. .\fter the provoking
•hit.ir in the arrangement has been successfully got-
ten over, it is perhaps all 'plain sailing.' which is a
landsman's notion of bowling along without any trouble,
with a clear lourse, a fair wind, and nothing to do but
mind the helm. There is another kind of sailing, how-
ever, which is ni)t so satisfactory, and that is -sailing
under false colors.' If honest Jack were invited to
give these same lawyers and politit ians a bit of advice,
he would perhaps say something in this wise : ' Avast,
ho ! my hearties, keep a sharj) lookout aheatl ; be al-
ways "above board." don't try to "sail under false
(olors." and don't be always thinking how yon can
"overreach your mates. ' for ten to one you will end up
by "falling foul" of them, and maybe "foundering"

yonrself '

"Now here, boys, is a lot of terms invented by
Jack that have -stablished themselves on shore. 'I'o be
'above board' ncans to be out on the open deck
where everybody can see you. and not hidden away in
the cabin or forecastle. To 'sail under false colors.'
is to hoist at the masthead the flag of another nation
than that to which the vessel really belongs. It is
often done in times of war. If there was war between
Mngland and France, for instance, and a Krencli vessel
on meeting an English cruiser were to hoist the Stars

irn ill :i rope
\\)^ out freely,
sucli as ' lialf-
il so on. ea< li
llie provoking
iccessfully got-
g.' wliich is a
lit any troiiMe,
hiiig to ilo but
jf sailing, how-
that is ■ sailing
ere inviteil li>
I hit of adviie,
wise : ' Avast,
ahead ; he al-
;ail under false
; how yon can
yon will end np
"foundering"

is invented hy
1 shore. To he
the oi)en deck
hidden away in
.■r false colors,'
another nation
belongs. It is
las war between
a I'Vench vessel
) hoist the Stars

ON SEA TKRMS .\MIORE

and Stripes, tluit would be a case of sailing under false
<:olors. liy ' overri'ac !)ing ' is meant a vessel holding
on too long on one ta< k. Ship^ "fall foul' of one an-
other wiieii a gale causes them to drag their am hor.-i
and come into ( ollision, and no one who has ever been
on iioard a ship at sue h a lime, and heard the grinding
of tiie huge hulls as the wavi-s bumj)ed them together,
the crashing of the sjjars aloft, the shiuiting of the caj)-
tains, and swearing of tlie men, will ever forget what it
is to ' fall foul.' Hut ' foundering ' is still worse, for that
only happens when a gallant vessel, after being beaten
about by a terrible storm, opens her seams until, be-
coming- full of water, she goes right down in mid-
ocean, taking all on board with her to ' IMvy Jones'
locker. '

"Of course, my lads, these I have giv>_n are not by
any means all the words and exjjressions which lands-
men owe to Jack, but I won't bother you with many
more, or you will think 1 am spinning altogether too
long ;• yarn myself, and be longing for me to come to
an anchor. I have already told you how the ladies,
the lawyers, and politicians, have borrowed e.xpressions
from Jaik's fruitful vocabulary, and it is now the turn
of the merchants. Suppose, Mr. President, you should
ask your father how business was, and he should reply
that although there had been a great falling off some
time ago, it was beginning to look uj) ami getting into
the right course again, he would use at least three well-
known sea terms in that short sentence. A ship ' falls
off when the wind draws ahead and gets in her way,

CAPTAIN binnacle's LECTURE

as it were, ami is said to be 'looking up' wb-^n, after
pointing off her course; she gradually steals round to it
again through the veering of the wind, thus 'getting
into the rigiit course,' that is, the straightest line for
the port to which she is bound.

"One of Jack's words in constant use of late years
is 'crank.' A crank ship is one that has too little bal-
last on board, and is conseiiuently in danger of going
over on her beam-ends at the first S(piall, and as half-
witted peoi)le are always ill-balanced, you can see at
once how e.xpressive the term ' crank ' is.

"One more word, boys, and I will come to anchor.
'I'hat word is 'brace up.' and it contains a very good
bit of ad\ ice too. When we feel lazy, discouraged,
discontented, or miserable about anything. ' in the
doldrums,' as Jack would say, we must brace up, as
ships at sea brace up their yards that they may make
the most of the wind.

" Hy the way of a wind-up, I will give you a half-
dozen sea terms, the meanings of whi( h it will be
amusement for you to find out for yourselves, namely :
'Making headway,' 'making leeway,' 'holding her
own,' 'shot in tlie locker,' 'see how the land lies,'
' the coast is clear, ' look out for snualls,' ' coming to,'
and 'beating about.' 'I'hat will be enough, I think.
.\nd now, lads, thankin', you heartily for not getting
tired of an old sailor's talk, and wishing you all a pros-
perous voyage on life's ocean, I will 'avast heaving'
and have done."

p' when, after

lals round to it

thus 'getting

ghtcst line for

e of late years
s too little bal-
anger of going
11, and as half-
iOu can see at

[jnie to anchor,
ns a very good
r, discouraged,
:hing. ' in the
it brace up, as
they may make

ive you a half-
lich it will be
selves, namely :
' holding her
the land lies,'
,' ' coming to,'
lougb, I think,
for not getting
r you all a pros-
avast heaving '

eK^&>fei^^^

HKN T'»d Robson
ran away to sea,
his ])arents sought
to comfort their sad-
dened hearts with the
conviction that it would
not be long before he
would return, a wiser lad than
he had gone. For one thing, he did
not know how to swim, and as the good deacon
shrewdly said:

"A sailor that can't swim surely ain't worth his salt
on board a ship, and they'll soon be finding our Ted
out, and pack him home again."

Ted had always been of a restless, wayward disposi-
tion. He was not attracted by the idea of following
in the footsteps of his worthy father, only son though he
was.

The fancied restraints of religion seemed to him
more than he could endure. He wanted to have his
fling first, at all events, to sow his crop of wild oats ;
and although his parents were neither over-indulgent

HEAIl DOWNWARD

nor unduly strict, even his comfortal)le liome gr>,w irk-
some as he allowed himself to cherish the notion of
seeing something of the world.

The end of the matter was that, failing to obtain his
father's consent, he made up his mind to go off with-
out it, and one dark nighi in June he disajipeared, to
gether with such of his belongings as could be made
up into a handy bundle.

.\s soon as lY-d's absence was discovered. Deacon
Robson set off in pursuit, but unluckily went to the
wrong seaport, there being two at about eciual distanc;;
from Ebondale, and before he could corre t '.is error,
his undutiful son liad stowed away on the big bark
" Krl King," bound for South America with a big cargo
of lumber, and was beyond the southern horizon.

Ted had not been a week on shipboard before he
began to re])ent of his conduct. In the first place, he
was desperately seasick ; in the second, he was by the
command of the captain, who had small sym])athy with
stowaways, set to the hardest and most distasteful tasks ;
and in the third place, the ocean was so much vaster
than he had ever imagined, and even the big bark
seemed such a speck upon its bosom, that the very idea
of a big storm filled him with apprehension.

" I just wish 1 was home again," said he to himself
more than once. " If I'd only known what jioor fun
there is in being a sailor, I'm mighty sure I'd never
have been fool enough to stow mvself away."

Despite these dran backs at the start, however, as
the voyige progressed he grew more accustomed to his

HEAD DOWNWARD

ne gT^w irk-
e notion of

obtain his
,'o off with-
[ipeared, to
Id be made

ed, Deacon
.vent to the
ual distant;:
■t '-.is error,
le big bark

1 a big cargo
orizon.

d before he
"St place, he
was by the
npathy with
steful tasks ;
much vaster
le big bark
he very idea

,' to himself
lat |)Oor fun
e I'd never

however, as
omed to his

new life, and as he l)ehav(„d himself well and showed
intelligence, l.e was after a while given the place o*"
cabin-boy, in which he had lighter work and better
trealmeut.

'Ihe " I'lrl King's" course was down the eastern coast
of South America, around dangerous Cape Horn, and up
tile west coast as (;ir as ('o(piinibo, stopi)ing from time
to time at different ports on the way. led made the
most of his (ipi)ortunities to learn to row and steer a
boat and other useful accomplishments ; but he knew
no more about swinnning when they reached the Chil-
ian coast tlian he did when they started.

The bark had to delay her return to get on board a
cargo of copper ore. and there being nothing else to
do, the energies of the crew were directed to making
rejjairs in the rigging and hull, rendered necessary by
the long voyage.

( )ne morning Ted was seiit ashore as steersman of a
boat to bring off some sui)i)lies. 'I'he day was perfect;
the surface of the bay had hardly a ripple ; and Ted
felt in higli spirits as the boat shot through the water.
Ciood time was made to the landing, the stores were
procured and stowed in the stern sheets, a little while
was allowed for looking around, and then the heavily
laden boat i)lowed her way back to the bark,

■' Kight bells" struck just as the boat got alongside,
and the oarsmen being in a hurry for their dinner,
clambered out of her, leaving 'led to make fast and
follow after. He had l)een steering with an oar. and
feeling a little incensed at the others hurrying off, he

HEAD DOWNWARD

gave an impatient stroke to bring the boat's sterr in to
the ship. He was standin--, in the boat when he did
this, and the notch for the oar being too shallow, the
heavy ash blade slipped out of it.

Taken completely unawares, Ted lost his balance,
and shot overboard head first, his impetus carrying
him far down into the translucent depths.

His first 'eeling as the water closed over him was one
of wild terror. He knew he coui not swim a stroke,
and he rightly surmised that no one had seen him dis-
app-iar, the whole crew being busy at dinner. Opening
his mouth to shout for help, a suffocating rush of salt
water made him nistantly close it again. He was near
losing consciousness from sheer fright at his appalling
situation.

There came to him like an inspiration the directions
that he had once read as to what should be done in
such an emergency. He remembered that he must not
be flurried, and that he must k< ep his arms down, and
paddle as much like a dog as possible.

So he set to work paddling, at first gently, but with
growing vigor as the agony of suffocation increased,
until he had reached the utmost limit of his strength.
Oh, if he could only get his mouth above water just for
a moment ! How terrible it was to be without breath.

Yet, strange to say. his efforts brought him no nearer
the surface. Then there flashed into his mind the
thought of the oar, which had been the cause of his
fall into the water, and he groped around eagerly in the
hope of grasping it with his hands. But his out-

si
1)

n
d
o

P
a
h
e

d
h
h
li

h
o
f(
h
li

P
u

HEAD DOWNWARD

t's sterr in to
t when he did
shallow, the

t his balance,
)ctus carrying

r him was one
kvim a stroke,
seen him dis-
ner. Opening
ig rush of salt
He was near
his appalling

the directions
d be done in
it he must not
ins down, and

ntly, but with
on increased,

his strength.

water just for
ithout breath,
lim no nearer
lis mind the
: cause of his
eagerly in the
But his out-

stretched fingers touched nothing save the surrounding
brine, and despairing of helping himself in any way, he
gave up further effort and was perfectly still.

" Perhaps i will rise to the surface now," he thought.
"They say that's what happens if you only keep still."

No ! Instead of ascendi ig he seemed to be getting
more deeply submerged, hi^ mind now became won-
derfully active. His past life unrolled itself like a pan-
orama before his mental vision, and there mingled with
it anxious thoughts of his future. He felt the most
poignant regret for his conduct toward his parents, and
an awful horror of death possessed him. No grountl
had he to- hope for Divine mercy. No other fate than
eternal condemnation could await such a sinner as he.

"Oh, if I could only be spared this time, what a
different boy I would be ! " was the unuttered cry of
his heart, and with such mental strength as remained to
him, he vowed to serve (lod faithfully the rest of his
life if he should be rescued.

Suddenly there came an excruciating pain in his
head, as though it would burst, that drove him to make
one more desperate effort to free his face from the suf-
focating water. But the effort was in vain, and after his
last atom of strength had spent itself, a feeling of de-
licious ease stole sweetly over his senses, soothing all
physical and mental agony, and he sank into complete
unconsciousness.

Presently he became conscious of a curious humming
sound, and of a distant murmur of voices. He be-
lieved he was in another world, and made a desperate

HEAD DOWNWARD

1
I

attempt to open h'« eyes. lOverytliing, however, was
in a state of whirl and blur that was painful, so he
thought he would wait until he grew stronger. The
next moment a familiar voice broke in upon his stupor,
and aroused him to make another attempt. The voice
said :

"Clivc him a little more of that drink ; he's coming-
to all right."

The speaker was the captain of the " Krl King," and
instead of being in another world, led was no farther
than the vessel's cabin where, surrounded by an anx-
ious grouj) of his shii)mates, he was being slowly brought
back to life.

The revulsion of feeling was so great that he burst
into tears, at which the captain said :

"That's right ; that will do you good. You'll soon
be quite yourself again. Hut I tell you, my lad, you
had a narrow squeak for it."

Ted's escape, certainly, had been nothing short of
providential. It seemed that one of the men. feeling
some com])unction at liaving left him in the lurch, re-
turned to help him make fast the boat. Surjjrised at
not seeing him. he sprang into the boat, and guessing
what had happened, peered down into the water which,
fortunately, was as clear as crystal. His cjuick eyes at
once caught sight of poor Ted. head downward, at such
a depth that he had to haul hm up with a boathook.

From that day Ted was a changed boy. He felt so
convinced that (lod's reason for sparing his life was
that he might give him his heart and serve him for the

ten

ing

littl

the

opt

did

he.n

froi

I
his
was
sile
diri
whi
ran
trac
enc
wit
wai
dor
pra
the
soh
he

I
has
his
aga

iiE.\n nowNWARn

however, was
iiinful, so he
'onger. The
jii his stui)or,
The voice

he's romiiig-

1 Ring," and
as no farther
I by an anx-
lowly brought

that he burst

You'll soon
my lad, you

fling short of

men. feeling
he lurch, rc-

Suri)rised at
and guessing

water which,
juick eyes at
ward, at such

boathook.

He felt so
; his life was

him for the

remainder of his days, that he at once set about obtain-
ing f(jrgiveuess. From the bottom of his bag came the
litde liible, his mother's gift, which he had stowed in
there with his other belongings, although he had not
opened it during the voyage. He read and prayed until
he became known on board as " jjious 'J'td." Hut he
did not mind being laughed at, for peace came into his
heart, and he was strong in the strength that cometh
from above.

Moreover, he had the satisfaction of knowing that
his influence was not lost. IVlore than one of the men
was led to think of the wild life he was living by his
silent exam])le. In one case he was permitted to see
direct results. At one of the South .American ports at
which the " Hrl King" wascomi)elled to call, Tom Coch-
rane, the wild, rough s.-'i'or who had rescued 'led, con-
tracted a severe illnes ; whu h, for a time, threatened to
end his life. The gratitude in Ted's heart, together
with the new spirit that had come to him, led him to
wait on Tom as faithfully as any lorother could have
done. More than once too, he heard the devoted boy
praying to (lod for his recovery. 'I'his, together with
the boy's tender ministry, caused him to make a re-
solve to do better ; and hih young nurse believed that
he would.

In due time the voyage came to an end, and Ted
hastened home, praying that no ill might have befallen
his ])arents during his absence, and vowing that never
again would he leave them without their full approval.

He reached the old h -me just as his father and

IIKAD noWNWARIl

mother wore sitting' down to their evening m«al, and
bursting into the room, he threw liimself at his father's
feet, crying :

"Forgive me, father; I've come home, and I'll
never run away again."

(Ireat was the gladness of the father and mother at
their son's safe return, and greater still their joy when
they learned of his ( iiange of heart, for the sake of
which they freely forgave him everything.

ng meal, and
at bis father's

)me, and I'll

nd mother at
tlicir joy when
r the sake of

^^3^^e

'S^'

HARl.IK ! Wh.>> aoes that
mean?" crieil Stan ("lark-
son, throwing down his i)i(:k,
seizing his t<jr(ii, and darting
off into the darkness.
Charlie l'"ranklyn |)aiisc(l in
his \igorous shoveling and
looked anxiously after Stan,
while the boys on either side of him, overhearing the
latter's exclamation, stopped work also, and ga/ed in-
((uiringly into his face.

"What is it, Charlie?" asked Con 'I'npiier.
" What's become of Stan ? "

" He's gone to the month of the cave, I gness, but
I don't know what for," answered Charlie.

'I'he next moment Stan came rushing Ijack, his face
])allid with fright, his eyes nearly starting from their
sockets, and his hand trembling so that the torch al-
most fell from his grasp.

" Oh, boys ! " he gasped as he sprang into the circle
of light cast by half a dozen torches and lanterns.
"The tide's in, and we're caught in the cave ! "

«, 1| < I1 JUL I . 1 I

.jM^ ' li -t ' l i M '

CAUOUT IN SMUOr.I.F.R S CAVR

At the utterance of these words a chorus of excla-
mations of alarm arose from the boys, and dropping
their tools they gathered about Stan Clarkson, pepper-
ing him with excited (juestions to which his only replv
was :

" (^nit :k ' take the lights and hurry for your lives."
Snatching up the iiglils, but leaving their picks and
shovels, the whole party scurried toward the mouth of
the cave

Almost before they knew it their feet were s-plashing
in the water, and their hearts stood still with fright as
the peril of their position broke upon them. The
smaller boys shrank back in terror and some of them
began to whimper ; but l''rank Alherton, the oldest and
biggest of the party, handing his torch to Con Tupjjer,
spoke out bravely :

"Don't begin to blubber yet. (live me plenty of
.ight, and I'll see if we can't get through." .

Then throwing off his coat and boots he dashed into
the water. Hefore him the darkness was intense, and at
each step the water deei)ened until at last he had to
swim. Yet fearlessly he ])ressed forward, hoping at
every stroke to see beyond him the patch of light that
would mean escape. Suddenly his head struck some-
thing hard. He put up his hand. It was the roof
of the cave ! The moutli then was already full, and all
chance of escape cut off There was no alternative but
to turn back and await the worst He and his com-
panions were as helpless as rats in a trap.

There was not a braver boy in the country than

loriis of cxcla-

and uropiiiiig

rksun, pcppcr-

his only rcpiv

ir your lives."

leir picks and

the mouth of

were s-plashing
with fright as
I them. The
some of them
the oldest and
J Con 'rtip])er,

me plenty of
1." .

he dashed into
intense, and at
last he had to
ird, hoping at
:h of light that
d struck some-
: was the roof
dy full, and all
alternative but
; and his com-

; country than

CAUGHT IN SMtT.r.LEK.S CAVK

Frank .\therton. lUil who could hlame him for feeling
lim|> and nerveless as he made liis way hai k to the little
group treiuiiiingly awaiting his return.

They knew his answer before he spoke, and as he
despondently dragged himself out of llu' water, the
l)0()r little fellows who had been trying hard to < ontrol
their sobs, broki' out alresii.

"Come now, boys; stoj) that!" said i'lank in a
commanding but not unkindly tone. "Crying won't
help matters. Tliere's nothing for us but to wait here
until the tide goes out again. Let us go back to the
end of the cave."

'I'hereiipon tliey all made their way to the farthest
recess of tlie long tunnel, dug out by the persistent
waves, and, putting down their lights, gathered close
about I'Vank for comfort and direction.

'i'heir situation was one of sufficient danger to ajjpall
the stoutest heart. The party consisted of a dozen
boys, ranging ir. age from ten to fourteen years, all of
them pupils at Chebucto .\cademy. .Among the many
legends of the sea current in Chebucto, was one to
the effe(-t that a certain cave, which penetrated deep
into the side of Sambo Head and bore the name of
Smuggler's Cave, although no smuggler had been
known to make use of it for generations past, was one
of the hiding i)laces where Captain Kidd had bestowed
a portion of his ill-gotten gain. This legend every boy
at the academy devoutly believed, and i vas a frecjuent
subject of discussion among them, although no attempt
had ever been made on their part to test its accuracy

CAUGHT IN SML-GGI.UKS CAVE

until I'raiik Alhirton, one of those boys who always
take till' li';i<l amoii^,' tlicir IVIIdus, a handsome, atlilelic,
daring lail iKit i|iiite lilteeii years of age. having heard
the story until he believed every word of it, hetamo
possessed with the iletenninatioii lo see if there was
anything in it.

.\n enterprise that i'Vank .\thert()n headed was sure
of plenty of volunteers, and he had no diffit ulty in
organizing an exploring jtarty (piile as large as he de-
sired. Choojiing a Saturda) when the tide wcjiild he at
its elil) about noon, these youthful searchers after
buried treasure provitled themselves with ))i(ks, shovels,
crowbars, lanterns, and tort hes, and set off in two boats
for the SI eiie of their operati(ni.

I'he ilay proved as favorable as rould be desired, the
harbor had hardly a ripple u])()n its surface, the sun
shone from a cloudless sky, and the air was warm with-
out being oppressive. in high spirits the part;- rowed
away to Smuggler's C.'a\e.

When they landed the tide was just running out,
and they had but a little while to wait before the en-
trance to the ( ave was clear. Fastening their boats se-
curely at the foot of the cliff, they lit their torches,
shouldered their tools, and marched out of the glare
and warmth of the sunlight into the shadow and chill
of the drip])ing rave.

Far into its depths they made their way, singing and
shouting noisily to show how bold they felt, until they
reached the extreme end, where they put down their
tools and awaited their leader's instructions. Now a

ya who always
some, atlilelic,
. having heard
of it, became
e if there was

■adcd was sure
lo difficulty in
irge as he de-
ilc would he at
learihers after
picks, shovels,
jff in two boats

be desired, the
iirface, the sun
ivas warm with-
le part/ rowed

I running out,
before tiie en-
their boats se-
their torches,
it of the glare
adow and chill

ly. singing and
felt, until they
)ut down their
;tions. Now a

CAUtiiir IN sMi'<;(;i KK s cave

certain old "salt," who iiung about Market Square,
iiaving apiiarenlly no oilier o(:( upalion than to shift his
i[uid, hilcli up ills bree( hcs, and retail very fishy yarns
for the benefit of any one who would listen to him, had,
as a very great favor, and in consiileration of one dollar
down and a thousand more payable in event of justin-
able su( ( ess. given to Kiaiik a dec idedly dirty piec e of
paper upon which were scrawled certain c rooked lines
that purporivd to i>e a plan of the interior of the < ave,
and to indicate the precise spot where Caplaiu Kidd
had made his deposit of bullion and jewels.

The boys gathered eagerly about I'rank as with
knitted brow he studied Men Sculpin's mystic scrawl.
Kvideiitly he found it no c.isy task to identify its indi( a-
tion. But at length his fi ■■ light-'ucil. lie thought
he had caught the clew all right, and soon under his di-
rections the whole party was toiling away vigorously in
a corner of the cave that certainly looked a very fitting
hiding place for pirate treasure.

So heartily did they work, inspired by hopes as splen-
did as they were vague, that they took no thought of
time until their stomachs hinted that refreshments would
be in order, when they knocked off for half an hour,
ate their lunch, had a little rest, and then re-commenc cd
with undiminished ardor. After another hour or so,
however, signs of weariness began to show themselves,
one of the first to let uji being Stan Clarkson, who was
a lazy kind of c:hap at any time, and it was while rest-
ing on his pick that his .[uic k ear caught the sound of
waves bi'criking softly upon the sand which caused him

^f^

m i LMII Ii lH I J. . i"i u ii i.».!f

CAUGHT IN SMUGGLER S CAVE

to rush toward the mouth of the cave witli the result
already described.

When the bo>.s realized that they were prisoners until
the tide should fall again and set them free, their first
thought naturally was, did the tide fill the whole cave,
or did it leave sufficient space at the far end for them to
await in safety their deliverance ? Hy common consent
they referred this question to Frank Atherton, and his
prompt answer, given in a cheerful, confident tone,
was :

" We'll be all right, boys. Uon't get scared. We'll
have to stay here a little longer than we expected to,
that' sail."

His companions tried bravely to imitate his com-
posure, although their spirits were sinking fast, and
under his directions they sought around the walls for
ledges and other projections which would enable them
to get as far out of the reach of the water as possible.
In doing this some of the lights were extinguished
through being dropped or overturned, which mishap
heightened their growing terror until thjy were on the
verge of a panic. But Frank diverted their thoughts
for the moment by scolding the clumsy ones very vigor-
ously and bidding the others be more careful, and soon
all, except himself, had secured some sort of a foothold
on the walls wh'ich raised them above the level of
the cave's floe. There, in anxious uncert-^.inty, they
awaited the coming of the tide.

As gendy and playfully as thcagh incapable of harm,
the dark water stole up o^e'^ the sand in wave after

rtith the result

prisoners until
free, their first
le nhole cave,
nd for them to
nimon consent
erton, and his
onfident tone,

scared. We'll
„' expected to,

itate his corn-
king fast, and
d the walls for
i enable them
er a.s possible,
e extinguished

which mishap
.,'y were on the

their thoughts
ines very vigor-
reful, and soon
rt of a foothold
e the level of
icert-^.inty, they

pable of harm,
1 in wave after

CAUGHT IN SMUGGLKRS C.WE

wave, waxing higher inch by inch. The soft ripples
seemed to be chasing one another in innocent merri-
ment for, although the wind blew briskly outsit.e, none
of its violence was felt witiiin, and the tide a<lvanccd
simply by its inherent force. I'or some time the boys
were silent ; the slow yet irresistible progress of the
vuior exercised a sort of fascination over them akin to
that exerted by a serpent o\er a bird. 'I'iiey did not
know but that each glistening wavelet brought death a
little nearer, and they had no thought for anything else.

Presently, his young nerves unable to stand the
strain any longer, little Regie Barton burst into piteous
sobs and dropped his torch, which vanished with an ex-
piring hiss into the water at his feet. This set off
others of the small boys, and soon the cave was filled
with sounds of weeping and lamentation.

Braced against the extreme back of the rave, and
holding fast the briglitest of the torches, Frank Ather-
ton, alone of the twelve, fully retained his self-control.
As the organizer of the party he felt responsible for the
safety of its members, and, being naturally of a cool,
courageous temperament, his spirit sustained him in the
face of a growing dread that their case was hopeless.

" Come, come, boys," said he firmly, but soothingly,
" don't be cry-babies. There's more water in the cave
now than we want, and its no use adding your tears to
it. Keep & good grip on your lights, and don't lose
your foothold, and you'll get out of here all right
enough. ' '

Higher— steadily, smoothly, pitilessly higher, rose the

■JHHMmmmiNMmAh

.:I

52 CAUGHT IN SMUGGLERS CAVE

tide. It played about Frank's feet, washed c^leefuUy
over them, crept past his ankles up toward his knees,
and the higher it climbed the c'.eei)er sank his brave
young heart. To add to the terrors of the situation
the oil in the lamps began to give out. One after
another they grew dim, flickered for a moment, and
then expired, until at length only the torch held by
Frank, which ha\)pily was one of extra si/e that had
been well filled at the outset, remained burning.

By this time the most of the boys had become too
terrified to shed tears. Chilled to the marrow, and al-
most paralyzed with fear, they clung like limpets to the
slippery rock, the pallid faces looking inexpressibly
piteous in the deepening gloom.

" Let us say our prayers," whispered Regie Barton ;
and his companions, by a common impulse, began with
chattering lips to repeat the prayer most familiar to
them. In the very midst of this there came a sharp
cry of fright, followed by a thrilling splash. Poor little
Regie, in making a slight movement, had lost his foot-
hold and fallen into the water.

Thrusting his torch into the hand of the boy nearest
him with the command, " Here, take care of this ! I'll
get Regie," Frank plunged after the youngster, who in
his chilled condition was almost helpless, and dragged
him back to his place, and stood beside him. Still the
tide rose. The water lapped about Frank's waist. It
encircled his heart. It climbed upon his shoulders.
A few inches more and the stern struggle would be
over.

ashed j^leefiiUy
arcl his knees,
sank his brave
if the situation
it. One after
moment, and
torch held by
I si/e that had
JMirning.
id become too
narrow, and al-
.'! limpets to the
g inexpressibly

Regie Barton ;
ilse, began with
lost familiar to
came a sharp
sh. Poor little
d lost his foot-

the boy nearest
ire of this! I'll
ingster, who in
)S, and dragged
him. Still the
ink's waist. It
his shoulders,
iggle would be

CAUGHT IN SMUGGLERS C.WE

Oh what a dreadful way it was to die ! pent up in
that dark, dripping cave where their bodies might per-
haps remain undiscovered, hidden away to be food for
tlie crabs and lobsters that now were crawling hungrily
about their feet — no loving lips to give the last kiss, fio
gentle hands to tenderly close the glazing eyes, but in-
stead the merciless, deadly embrace of the sea, and the
cruel greedy maw of its hideous progeny !

'I"he sobs had ceased. There was perfect silence save
for the soft lapping of the waves against the walls slimy
with sea-weeds. The tide need rise but a few inches
more, and its work would be complete. It already
touched Frank Atherton's chin. With a fortitude truly
heroic he awaited his fate.

But what was this ? Had the water really ceased to
rise, or was it only his imagination playing him false?
Trembling betwixt the extreme of hope and fear, Frank
stood for some minutes hardly breathing in his agoniz-
ing imcertainty. Then a cry of joy burst from his lips.

" Hurrah, boys ! " he shouted, waving his torch tri-
umphantly. "The tide's going down again. Keep
your places and we'll all be saved."

There was first a feeble effort at a united cheer in re-
sponse, and then, their tongues being loosened by the
good news, the boys began to hail one another cheer-
ingly and to hazard guesses as to how long it would be
before they would be released from their prison.

Oh, how cruelly slow the tide was in ebbing out
again ! Surely it took twice as long to fall as it did tc
rise. At least so it seemed to the exhausted boys, who

CAUGHT IN SMUGGLERS CAVE

could barely keep themselves from slipping into its cold
depths.

But at length — and not a moment too soon — it re-
treated sufficiently to permit them to move about freely
on the lloor of the cave, and an hour later they
splashed their way through it to tne entrance.

To their amazement they found that it was as dark
outside as in the cave. They had entered it at midday.
It was now not far from midnight. Not a sign of their
boats could they find ; the high water had torn the.^.
from their moorings and carried them away.

Fortunately Frank knew pretty well the lay of the
land, and stumbling slowly along the shore, they even-
tually reached the cottage of a fisherman, who, in re-
sponse to their appeal, took them in at once, made a
big firt for them, and did his best for their comfort.

The next morning he carried them in his big boat
back to Chebucto, where they found their mysterious
disappearance the sensation of the town, and parties
being organized to go in search of them. Their re-
markable story aroused intense interest. Frank Ather-
ton found himself the hero of the day, and in their
abounding joy at the safe return of their sons, the
parents of his companions freely forgave him for having
organized the expedition which had so narrow an escape
from perishing in Smuggler's Cave.

Although Ben Sculpin stoutly adheres to his story of
buried treasure, there has been no further attempt to
put him to the proof, and Captain Kidd's legacy lies
undisturbed.

ig into its cold

) soon — it re-
e about freely
ur later they
ince.

it was as dark
1 it at midday,
a sign of their
lad torn the."",
ay.

the lay of the
re, they even-
n, who, in re-
once, made a
jir comfort,
n his big boat
eir m)sterious
n, and parties
m. Their re-
Frank Ather-
', and in their
heir sons, the
him for having
rrow an escape

to his story of
her attempt to
Id's legacy lies

QornetKinq
5>) \^*^

r€J

is safe to say that there are

ten persons wlio firmly believe

in tlie sea-serpent to every one

who does not, and among this

big majority may certainly be

counted the boys and girls who

know anything at all about this

mysterious monster of the deeji.
Not many of them may have had the
rare privilege of seeing him, or even of
seeing any man who has, but their fauh is
unfaltering, and they never go down to
the seaside, when the hot breath of sum
mer drives them out of the city, without
hoping that they will get a glimpse of his

/-- . . „_.- __ — .. — , j». ... ... .

hideous hugeness before they return.

SOMETHING AROUT THE SEA-SERPENT

That the sea-serpent should be a good deal in their
thoughts is no wonder, for he is much more talked
about than any of his fellow-denizens of the dark, un-
fath(jnied ocean depths, and we would perhajis, hear
even more concerning him than we do, if sea-serpent
stories, like other fish stories, had not fallen a good deal
into disrepute, so that peo])le are unwilling to tell them.

The belief in the sea-serpent is as old as iumianity
itself, as indeed it may well be ; for whether there are
actually any such dreadful creatures nowadays or not,
there certainly were lots of them before human history
began, and no one knows for how long thereafter.
Immense fellows they were too, with necks nearly as
long as their names, and so strong, swift, and fierce
that the little crew of Noah's ark would have had good
reason to be frightened if one of them had tried to get
on board, or poke his head in at the window. Perhaps
at least one of them sjrvived to swallow Jonah, and
carry him about for "three long days and three long
nights."

The wise Aristotle, who lived nearly four hundred
years before Christ, yet knew a great deal more than
many people who are living to-day, tells us that along
the Libyan coast there were sea-serpents big enough to
eat oxen and to upset triremes — triremes being vessels
about the size of our modern schooners. Pliny, an-
o'.her of the ancients, relates that a scpiadron sent by
Alexander the Great to explore the Persian Gulf en-
countered sea-serpents so huge as to put the fleet to
flight; and other classic historians have similar accounts.

PENT

deal in their
more talked
the dark, un-
[)erha])s, hear
if sea-serpent
n a good deal
; to tell them,
as iiiimanity
ther there are
adays or not,
iiman history
ig thereafter.
;cks nearly as
ft, and fierce
ave had good
d tried to get
3w. Perhaps
V Jonah, and
id three long

four hundred
al more than
lis that along
jig enough to
being vessels
i. Pliny, an-
dron sent by
iian Gulf en-
t the fleet to
lilar accounts.

SOMETHING AHOUT T.!F, SEA-SERPENT

Getting a good deal nearer our own times, we come
to (Jlaus Magnus, arclibisliop of L'psala, in Sweden,
who, writing about tliree hundred years ago, affirms
that the seafaring folk of Norway "all agree that . . .
there is a ser[)ent there which is of vast magnitude,
namely, two hundred feet long, and moreover, twenty
feet thick, which will go alone from his holes on a
clear night in summer and devour calves, lambs, and
hogs." 'That is bad enough surely, but it is not the
worst, for " this snake dis(|r.iets the shipi)ers, and he
puts up his head on high like a i)illar. and catcheth
away men, and he devours them."

The next best evidence to an archbishop's is that of
a bishop, I suppose, and accordingly it is satisfoctory to
have so worthy and scientific a man as Uishoi) Pontop-
pidan, in the eighteenth century, not only describing
the sea-serpent very minutely, but taking pains to have
a ])icture of him made which ])rol)ably forms the chief
basis of our present conceptions of his snakcship. To
be sure, unless we are content with telling only half the
truth, we must add that Mr. Lee, the famous natural-
ist, would explain away the good bisho])'s rather start-
ling ])i(:ture by saying that the supposed coils of tlie
serpent's body present exactly the ai)])carance of eight
porpoises following one another in a line, as porpoises
are wont to do, and that the head was jirobably the
product of an excited imagination. So that if we had
only Bishop Pontoppidan to depend ujion, we might
feel a little shaken in our faith. P)Ut just about the
same time the Rev. Hans Egede, the apostle of Green-

SOMETHING ABOUT THE SEA-SERPENT

land, as they called him, a most pious, truthful, and
well-informed man, claimed to have seen the awful
creature with his own eyes when on his way to Green-
land, and gives a very graphic account of it, which a
brother missionary made more easily understood by
means of an ecpially graphic sketch.

Mr. Lee, whose devcuon to science seems to make
him (piile forget due reverence for church dignitaries,
also argues that what the apostle of (Ireenland really
saw was one of the great calamaries, or cuttles, which
have sin('e been oaasionally met witii.

In the same pitiless fashion did Sir Kverard Home
dispose of wiiat seemed a most convincing narrative of
the stranding of a sea-serpent on one of the Orkney
Islands in 1808. by jjroving from some of the vertebra;
which had been preserved, that it was ncjthing more
than a i)articularly big basking shark. Under tliese
discouraging circumstances it is very consolitig to find
Mr. Lee cpiite at a loss to explain away the largo marine
animal that was seen at Gloucester Harbor, Massachu-
setts, in the year 1817. The matter was carefully in-
vestigated by the Linna;an Society of New England,
which had the sworn depositions of eleven eye-wit-
nesses taken before magistrates, and they all agreed
that the monster had the appearance and movement of
a serpent, a head as large as a horse's, and a length
of from fifty to a hundred feet.

Neither does Mr. Lee know just what to do with the
monster seen by a party of British officers in Mar-
garet's Hay, Nova Scotia, which had a head and neck

PENT

truthful, and
.'11 the awful
uy to (Ircun-
f it, wliich u
idcrstood by

ems to make

li dignitaries,
enland really
.-utiles, which

^erard Home
y narrative of
f the Orkney
the vertchra;
lothing more
U nder these
ioli:1g to find
; largo marine
)r, Massarhu-
> carefully in-
ew England.
;ven eye-wit-
ey all agreed
movement of
and a length

o do with the
icers in Mar-
ead and neck

SOMETHING ABOUT THE SEA-SERPENT

precisely like those of a common snake, only that
the head was considerably larger than a horse's and the
whole length of the body at least eighty feet. When
seen it was moving rapidly through the water, leaving a
regular wake behind it, and fortunately took no notice
of the officers, who felt not a whit too secure on board
their little yacht.

Putting aside these two accounts, two others from
Norway of the sea-serpent being seen near the rocky
coast of that country in 1845 and again in 1X47, our
faith is naturally much revived, esi)e(:ially when the
very next year brought with it an occurrence that cer-
tainly seems enough in itself to convince the most
incredulous. In August, 1848, the Hritisli warship
"Daidaliis" was on her homeward vo' ige from the
I'.ast Indies, when one afternoon an enormous s»:rpent,
with head and .shoulders kept constantly four feet above
the surface of the water, and with about fifty feet of body
discernible behind, came rapidly toward the vessel,
passing so close under the lee quarter that the captain
says, '' Had it been a man of my acquaintance I
should easily have recognized his features with the
naked eye." It was going at the pace of from twelve
to fifteen miles an hour, and although it approached so
near the ship, it did not deviate in the slightest degree
from its course, or take any notice of those who were
■ watching it with wondering eyes. The captain had a
drawing prepared immediately afterward, which all who
saw the creature certified as being correct, and we may
therefore safely conclude that that picture would give

6f^

SOMETHING ABOUT THE SEA-SERPENT

■ff^

US about as good an idea o) tlic sca-serpcnt as >vc tan
get, II ilcss we liasc tlic rare good fortune to sec liini
witli our own eyes some day.

I'liere are lialf a dozen other instances on record of
appearances of the sea-serpent, a very remarkable one
being where tlie ( rcw of .i wluding sliip saw a sperm
wliale wl)i(h was "gripiied around the Ixuly with two
turns of what ai)peared to lie a liuge serpent. The
serpent wliirleil its vii tim round and round for about
fifteen minuies, and tlien suddenly dragged it to the
bottom, head first."

Upon the whole it seems to be undeniable, as Mr.
I-ee himself admits, that there are monsters of the
decj) still unknown to science which, having their homes
in the abysmal depths of the sea, only occasionally
come to tiie surface, and it is also cpiite ])ossible that
among these "great unknowns" there are marine
snakes, not merely one sea-serpent, but several of
them, of a si/.e <piite suffi( ient to bear out the stories
told concerning them. So that when i)eople who fain
wonkl be considered very scientific and skeptical, seem
inclined to laugh at us for our belief in the existence
of the sea-serpent, we can answer them by pointing
out that only a few years ago they would no doubt have
smiled in a most sujjerior fashion at the idea of a cuttle
(isb fifty feet long, whereas even huger fellows are now-
well Known to exist. In the same way, pcrliaps, the
existence of the veritable sea-seri)ent will by and by be
l)roven beyond the sha(' • of a doubt, and then the
laugh will be all on our side.

PENT

nt as 'Vc tan
If to sec liiin

on record of
narkalilc one
saw a sperm
xly witli two
npent. The
11(1 for about
;e(l it to tlie

iabic, as Mr.
isters of the
; their homes

occasionally
possible that

are marine
it several of
it the stories
:)ple who fain
eptical, seem
;he existence

by pointing
o doubt have
L-aof a cuttle
lows are now
perhaps, the
by and by be
md then the

_ e/rioiToo.

LI-'.ASI'',, captain,

will you give me a
berth ? I'll work my
passage."
Captain Patterson turned
upon the speaker a look of
sharp imiiatieu' e. \\r was
constantly iieing bothered witli
simil". >■ rtcpiests coming from
bumpkins tired of the farm, or from
schoolboys ambitious to become gay
sea-rovers, and the customary gruff re-
sal was on the tip of his tongue, when
something in the apjjearance and e.xpression of
this a]iplicant caused him to hesitate.
He did not seem to be of the usual sort. He was
a boy of about fifteen years of age, of frank and pleas-
ing countenance, sturdy and well developed of figure,
and comfortably though plainly clad. He had, more-
over, a bright manly air that impressed the old marinev
favorably. So postponing the refusal and scrutinizing
the lad from head to foot, he said somewhat curtly :

CAITAIN, CKEW, AND I'lI.OT TOO

"Work your passage, cli ? What do you know
about a vchscI ? ' '

"Oil, a t;()()(l tlfal," replied the hoy, confidently
yet resi)e(trully. " I've lieeii on hoard of one niost all
my life."

" \oM lia\e, indeed," returned the captain in more
gra( iou>i tones. " i'hen you ought to know the roi)es.
Just jump aboard and tell us something about yourself."

U itli the ease born of long practice the boy swung
himself on to the after-deck, and at the captain's invi-
tation took a seat beside him on the pooj). He then
told his story.

His name was Dick Hayes, and he hailed from one
of the fisliing hamlets whose white cottages dot the
northern coast of Nova Scotia. From childhood his
father had taken him with him to the fishing grounds in
his stanch boat, and he had been trained to helj) to
the best of his ability. He had also made several trips
to the banks in larger craft. About two months i)re-
viously he had to remain ashore bec:ause of an illness.
'I'he "Merry Jane" went to the Banks without him
and never returned. A fearful .storm beset her.
Stanch and sturdy though she was, she vanislied with
all on board, and jioor Dick found himself an or])han,
his mother having died years previously, and possessed
of little more than the clothes on his back. Taking an
aversion to the occupation which had cost his father his
life, and feeling free to indulge the ambition long cher-
ished of seeing the world, he determined to go on to
St. John, where he would seek employment upon one

u you know

, ronfidcntly
■ one most all

)tain in more
)w tlic ro|)C's.
)iit yourself."
le boy swung
aptain's invi-
))). He then

led from one
ages (lot the
childhood his
ng grounds in
■il to helj) to
e several trips

months pre-

of an illness.

without him
I beset her.
vanished with
If an or])han,
ind possessed
;. Taking an

his father his
ion long cher-
1 to go on to
ent upon one

CAPTAIN, CREW, AND I'llOT TOO O^

of tiie large ships wliii h ( arry limber over the oc ean to
Great IJrilain. lie accordingly had made his way ac ross
the proviiK e to I'arrsboro, and there Id his great joy
found the trim schooner •• limily J.," Captain Patter-
son, loaded witli i>ilingin:cl almost ready to start for St.'
Jolm, the very place he had in view. He wound up
ills simple story with an earnest reipiest that he might
be permitted to go in the schooner.

While listening to the lad. Captain Patterson c|uite
changed his mind, and as soon as he had done speak-
ing he gave him a hearty slap on the back by way of
showing his sympathy, and e.\claimed in the kindliest
tone :

"Certainly, my boy! you're right welcome to a
berth, and if the piling sells well. I won't grudge you
a few dollars for your help. Have you any things to
bring on board ?"

Dick blushed and i)ointed to a small Imndle on the
wharf. "'I'hat's ail I have in tlie world," said he
simply.

" So much the less to worry about," laughingly said
the ca[)tain. " Bring it aboard, and come and have a
bite of supi)er." With joyful alacrity Dick, who had
eaten nothing since morning, followed Captain Patter-
son to tiie cabin and ate heartily of the substantial fixre
placed before him.

The following morning the sc:hooner set her sails,
and with a favoring breeze glided out into the muddy
waters of the Minas Basin. Besides the captain and
himself, Dick was surprised to find only one other per-

CAPTAIN, CREW, AND PILOT TOO

son aboard, to wit, the mate, a grizzled old sailor who
seemed in no hurry to be friendly. But Captain Pat-
terson explained that he intended to call at Ratchford
Harbor for the two men who constituted his crew, and
who had their homes there. In the meantime Dick
must needs do his best to fill the vacancy, and he soon
showed himself so active and expert a sailor as to make
the captain vc :)ad that he had taken him on board.
As they tar ed ^oward Ratchford Harbor there came
a sudden and >iost unwelcome change in both wind
and weather. The former swung around to the north-
east, and the latter grew thick and threatening. Cap-
tain Patterson began to feel anxious. The " Emily J. "
was quite too large a vessel to be handled readily by
two men and a boy in iny sort of a blow, and it prom-
ised to be a hard job ^-tting her into the harbor.

All through that afternoon the schooner beat about
the basin, and it was growing dusk before she neared
her destination. Meantime the wind steadily height-
ened, and she became more and more difficult to man-
age. At length matters reached a crisis when she un-
expectedly jibed ; the main boom, breaking away from
the guy, swung swiftly across the after-deck, and unfor-
tunately encountering the mate in its path, swept him
off into the water as though he had been a fly.

Dick was the first to see the accident, and he cried
to the captain, who was steering :

"The mate's overboard ! Hard down on the tiller,
sir, and bring her to the wind, quick ! "

The captain instantly obeyed, and the sails flapped

roo

old sailor who
t Captain Pat-
1 at Ratchford

his crew, and
jeantime Dick
r, and he soon
lor as to make
him on board.
)or there came

in both wind

I to the north-
itening. Cap-
le " Emily J. "
lied readily by
', and it prom-
; harbor,

ler beat about
ore she neared
iteadily height-
ifficult to man-
i when she un-
king away from
;ck, and unfor-
ath, swept him

II a fly.

t, and he cried

,'n on the tiller,
le sails flapped

CAPTAIN, CREW, AND I'lLOT TOO

fiercely as the wind went out of them. Dropping the
tiller, the captain sprang to the mainmast.

•' Let go the boat while 1 down with the mainsail,"
he shouted to Dick.

The boat hung on davits at the stern, and so promptly
did Dick obey that she was tossing in the schooner's
wake before the captain had the sail down.

"Well done, Dick," he cried, springing into the
boat. ''Now, take the tiller, and keep her head in
the wind till I get back." Then off he rowed in scan h
of the imperiled mate, leaving the boy in sole charge of
the vessel.

(Irasping the tiller firmly Dick set himself to obey
the captain's orders, and had the wind continued to
blow steadily from the same quarter all no doubt would
have gone well. But hardly did the boat dance away
over the waves into the deepening dusk tlian the wind
veered around as suddenly as before, the jib and fore-
sail bellied out, the schooner careened before the blast,
and Dick had no other alternative than to let her run
off until he could bring her round again.

Many minutes passed before this could be accom-
plished, and when he did succeed the schooner lay a
long distance from where the mate had been knocked
overboard, and the boat had utterly disappeared. Then
for the first time Dick realized his situation. He, a
mere boy of fifteen, alone and unaided, must navigate
a schooner of seventy tons through unknown waters
with the night coming on and " chrty weather " pre-
vaiUng. Well was it for him that he had shared many

mmi

CAPTAIN, CREW, AND PILOT TOO

a night's watch with his father in the stormy St. Law-
rence (hilf, and that the dari<ness had no especial ter-
rors for him.

letting the " lOmily J." run before the wind, he
hastened to light the lamp in the binnacle and to hang
out the ])()rt and starboard lanterns. 'I'hey would serve
the double purpose of guiding tiie captain back and of
saving the schooner from a collision in event of other
vessels being met. The lights being attended to, his
warmest coal buttoned tightly about him, and his "sou'-
wester" tied securely under his chin, he resumed his
place at the tiller, brought the schooner up into the
wind, and lay to amid the tossing white caps, peering
eagerly into the surrounding darkness and hoping every
moment to hear the hail from Captain Patterson that
would be the most welcome of all sounds.

He was conscious of a strange mingling of emotions ;
a certain sense of pride at the great responsibility so
suddenly thrust upon him, contended with nervous
anxiety lest disaster should be the result, and above
all was a keen concern regarding the two men battling
for their Uves in the darkness. He wondered if the
mate had been picked up, and whether the little boat
would be able to outlive so rough a sea, for it was now
blowing half a gale. Could he be very far from the
boat? It was impossible to tell.

Presently a light became visible off the port bow, and
he determined to steer toward it. He found it very
hard to manage the schooner. Whenever he tacked he
had to lash the tiller, and spring to let go the jib and

3()

rmy St, Law-
) especial ter-

he wind, he

_■ and to hang

y would serve

1 hack and of

vent of other

ended to, his

nd his "sou'-

resumed his

r up into the

caps, peering

hoping every

I'atterson that

of emotions ;
sponsibility so

with nervous
lit, and above
) men battling
)ndered if the
the little boat
for it was now
/ far from the

port bow, and

found it very

;r he tacked he

go the jib and

CAITAIN, CREW, AND PILOT TOO

foresheets on the one side, and belay them on the
other. It was exhausting work, but there was no help
for it ; it had to be done.

When he neared the light his practised eye made it
out to be the cheering gleam from a lighthouse, and one
glance at the chart was sufficient to fix his position.
This was undoubtedly Cape D'Or light, and he must
have therefore sailed out of Minas Channel into the
broad waters of the bay of Fujidy.

He felt glad of this. He would now have plenty of
sea-room, and frecjuent tacking would no longer be
necessary. Moreover, the wind was blowing off the
Nova_ Scotian coast toward New Brunswick, whither
Captain Patterson had expected to navigate his schooner,
and if Dick could only manage to bring her safely into
St. John, his responsibility would be over, and perhaps
Captain Patterson might also reach there alive and re-
claim his property.

The knowledge of his position gave Dick courage.
He began to feel more at home in his novel situation,
and inspiration came to him from the thought that if he
did succeed in piloting the " Emily J." safe into port,
he would . complish a feat in navigation the like of
which had perhaps never been before.

He needed all the insi)iration and courage he could
get from any source, poor boy ! for although the
weather happily grew no worse, it continued ugly
encnigh, and he was startled many a time as the long
hours of darkness wore on. The heavily-laden vessel,
with only jib and foresail set, made slow and clumsy

CAPTAIN, ^.rKW, AND PILOT TOO

progress, yet t;ixed his skill and strength to the utter-
most to keep ner from becoming the sport of the wind

and waves.

After he had been several hours at the tiller, he be-
came so weary that he did not see hoNV he could hold
out until morning. Oh, how he longed to be free to
curl up into his snug berth and rest his tired body !
But rest meant death for him and destruction to the
schooner, and summoning all his resolution he sturdily
maintained the struggle.

At length the darkness grew less intense, and the sky
began to color up with the promise of day. Then
came the dawn, and after it the broad daylight, which
found Dick still at the helm, eyes bloodshot, body
trembling, hand cpiivering, but spirit unconciuered, de-
termined not to let goof the tiller until the "Emily
J." was safe within St. John harbor. Happily the
sunrise brought with it a welcome change in the weather.
The clouds cleared from the sky, the rude blast sub-
sided mto a pleasant breeze, and the bright sunlight
smiled upon the brave lad as, inspired to fresh exer-
tions, he pointed the schooner for the land now dimly
visible, which he felt sure must be the New Brunswick

coast.

Through the early morning he sailed smoothly along,
finding little trouble in managing the schooner. An
hour before noon he made the mouth of the harbor of
St. John. Both breeze and tide were in his favor, so
that it was an easy task to effect an entrance. Once
well inside Partridge Island, he considered that his

CAFfAIN, CREW, AND I'lLOT TOO

to the utter-
of the wind

tiller, he be-
e could hold
to be free to
tired body !
uction to the
jn he sturdily

;, and the sky
day. Then
aylight, which
odshot, body
anciuered, de-
1 the " Emily
Happily the
n the weat'iier.
ide blast sub-
)right sunlight
to fresh exer-
nd now dimly
lew Brunswick

iioothly along,
schooner. An
" the harbor of
1 his favor, so
itrance. Once
iered that his

troubles were i)ractically over, and so great was the
sense of relief that he swung his cap in the air, and
gave a hearty " Hip-hip-hurrah ! " although there was
nobody to hear but himself ■

Yet proud as he naturally felt, he had too much sense
to think of navigating tlie crowded harbor. Accord-
ingly he dropped the anchor, lowered the sail. sen. up
the signal for a tug boat, and then utterly tired out,
threw himself down ujjon the poop with n coil of rope
for a pillow and in a moment was in a sound sleep.

An hour later a smart tug came puliling up alongside
the "Family J.,'' and from it there leajjcd on board
the schooner a man whose face fairly glowed with joy
and gratitude. Bending over the sleeper, he shook
him gently, saying : " Dick, my boy, wake up."

Dick stirred slightly, half opened his eyes, and re-
lapsed into slumber. 'I'he new-comer made a tour of
the vessel, satisfied himself that no damage had been suf-
fered, and then renewed his efforts to arouse the boy.

At last Dick awoke, looked up into his disturber's
face, and gave a start of surprise.

"Is it you, Captain Patterson?" he cried, his 'n-^;
becoming radiant. " Oh, I'm so glad ! I was afraid
you'd been drowned. And is the mate safe too ? "

There were tears of joy in the captain's eyes as he
answered :

"We both reached land all right, Dick, thank God !
though I thought we'd never do it ; but we made Quaco
by daybreak and hired a team, and drove right on t
St. John, where I got this tug and started out to hunt

CAPTAIN, CREW, AND PILOT TOO

for the schooner, thinking she might be knocking ibout
the bay of Fundy somewhere, if she hadn't gone
ashore and, bless my heart ! if 1 didn't find her with-
out going oiitside of the harbor. 1 couldn't believe my
eyes when I first sighted her ; but here she is, sure
enough, not on.> bit damaged ; and it's all your doings,
Dick, CJod bless you ! ' ' After saying which, the grateful
captain gwe Dick a hug that fairly took his breath away,
and tlien promised him a goodly share of the profits of
the cargo he had so pluckily steered into safety.

When the story of Dick Hayes' remarkable achieve-
ment became known in St. John, he found himself
quite a hero. A handsome subscription was promptly
raised among the shipowners and merchants in his be-
half, and that was only the beginning of his i;ood for-
tune. One of the largest shipowners sent for him,
asked for his story from his own lips, became deeply
interested in him, and decided to take him under his

own care.

The sequel makes very pleasant telling. Dick had
two years at a good school, then went to sea in one of
his patron's vessels, made rapid progress upward as the
years slipped by, until he was placed in command of
the very finest ship in the fleet, realized all his dreams
of foreign travel, became a shipowner himself, and finally
retired upon an ample fortune with many stirring tales
to tell, based upon his own experience ; but of them all,
the one he loved best was how he once had been cap-
tain, crew, and pilot too, of the schooner "Emily J." in
a voyage across the boisterous bay of Fundy.

i';

icking about
ladn't gone
id her with-
t believe my
she is, sure
your doings,
, the grateful
breath away,
he profits of
ifety.

ble achieve-
)und himself
ras pronjjtly
its in his be-
lis jTood for-
int for him,
came deeply
m under his

;. Dick had
sea in one of
ipward as the

command of
,11 his dreams
:lf, and finally

stirring tales
it of them all,
ad been cap-
' Emily J." in
idy.

n r-'

.>^:

- ajin^;

■ i«w«i».i|i".]r

■9T- [^

HE natural-science class was
up for recitation at I'ic-
tou Academy, and the
teadierwas brightly ex-
plaining the theory of
sound to a dozen deeply
interested boys.

"Do you know," he con-
tinued, after telling them how
every sound made tiny waves in
the air, just as a stone does when
thrown into still water, "that some wise men are of
the opinion that those waves, or pulsations, never
altogether cease after they have once been started.
Nobody, of course, has delicate enough hearing to
catch them ; but there they are all the same, just
as when they first made an impression upon the ear
for which they were intended, and they will continue

NEVER-DYING WORDS

to pulsate until the end of the world. So yo,i see,
boys, if that is true, no utterance that goes from our
lips into the air can ever be lost, but lives on long
after our voices are forever silent. All the words
that have been spoken since Adam first opened his
mouth are preserved in the air ; and if our sense of
t-.f- ring were only sharp enough, we might hear Noah
giviii; directions at the building of the ark, David sing-
ing before Saul, Christ preaching the Sermon on the
Mount, Shakespeare reading ' Hamlet ' to his admir-
ing friends, Washington giving commands to his army
at Vorktown, and so on down through the centuries to
what was said by ourselves the day before yesterday. ' '

Seeing how eagerly the boys were listening, Mr. May-
nard thought it a good chance to teach them something
more than science, so he continued in a somewhat
graver tone ;

" If, then, all the words that you and I havt spoken,
all the speeches we have made, kind or unkind, re-
spectful or impertinent, true or false, cross or good-
natured, are still in the air about us. even thorgh we
cannot hear them, how would we like it if they all could
be heard ? Wouldn't some of us be made to feel a good
deal ashamed ? What do you think ? You often sing,
' Kind words can never die ' ; but suppose unkind
words never die either? "

Nobody in the class was brave enough to answer, so
Mr. Maynard wisely dismissed it, and soon after
school broke up for the day.

Fred Newton and Will Munroe walked home t"-

NEVER-DYING WOl'DS

So yo'.i see,
)es from our
ves on long
1 the words
Oldened his
Dur sense of
; hear Noah
, David sing-
mon on the

his admir-
to his army
centuries to

ifesterday. ' '
ig, Mr. May-
m something
a somewhat

have spoken,
• unkind, re-
oss or good-
:n thorgh we
they all could
to feel a good
)U often sing,
)pose unkind

to answer, so

1 soon after

;ed home t -

■j,clhcT, as they almost always did, being great friends ;
and they both were unusually ijuiet for a time, when
Fred suddenly ex< laimed ;

"Say, Will, that was a queer thing Mr. Maynard
told us this afternoon about never-dying words. I
don't half believe it myself"

"It does seem a ([ueer idea, Fred, and 1 don't
quite like it, either," replied Will. "A fellow is al-
ways saying things he oughtn't to, and it isn't pleasant
to think of them i)eing up there in the air still, even if
people can't hear them."

"Why, of course," .rejoined Fred who, as all his
friends knew and some of them at the e.xjjense of their
feelings, had a very ready tongue and a sharp one at
that, "you can't always stop to think just what y( u're
going to say, especially when your mad is up about
something."

"That's so," concurred Will promptly. "When I
get mad I just rip out the first thing that comes handy ;
and it isn't always what I'd like Mr. Maynard to hear,
I tell you. I'm just precious glad he can't find out
what is up there in the air."

"Well, it's no use crying over spilt milk, anyway,"
returned Fred, who seemed anxious to drop the subject.
" Let's hurry up and pitch into football."

The two boys made haste to the ball field, where
they played vigorously until dark.

When Fred Newton went home that evening he
found the parlor empty and a fine big fire blazing cheer-
ily in the grate, before which he stretched himself at

ilE

;4 NEVER-DYING WORDS

full Icngt' upon the soft rug. Ho liad not been there
very long before such a babel of voices filled the room
that at first he was fairly bewildered ; but after a liule it
seemed to him that lie could distinguish wiiat some of
the voices were saying, and not only tlial. but ihey all
sounded strangely like his own. So he raised his head,
and listened eagerly to see if lie could find out what it
all meant.

Presently he heard what he felt perfectly sure was
his own voice, answering somebody in the most dis-
agreeable of tones thus: " No, 1 won't do anything of
tlie kind! Who was your servant last year, miss?"
It gave him a very uiuomlbrtable twinge of con cience
to remember that he had said lliose words to his sweet
little sister Edith only last week, when she asked him to
carry a small parcel to one of her friends. ( )f course,
to do so would have taken him a good deal out ot his
way just then, but he need not have given ht'r such a
cross answer at all events.

Next he heard the words of a slang verse, which
brought up in his mind the poor, harmless, crii)ple(l.
old colored man, who sometimes came begging to his
father's door, and whose life the boys made miserable
by their cruel teasing. Somehow or other the words
did not seem (p'ite so funny as Fred heard them now ;
and if his cheek.> did not redden a bit it was only be-
cause they were already glowing with the heat of the

fire.

Then this sentence, uttered in a very sulky, willful
tone, fell on his ear : "Mean old thing ! Won't let a

been there

il llic room
tcr a liule it
luit some of
hut ihey all
L'll his head,
I out what it

tly sure was
e most dis-
anything of
ear, miss? "
f con rience
to his sweet
isked him to
( )f course,
al out of his
1 ht'r such a

verse, wliich
>ss. criijjiled,
■gj^ing to liis
de miserable
er the words
:1 tliem now ;
was only he-
heat of the

sulky, willful
Won't let a

NEVER-DYINU WORDS

fellow have any fun." It was what he had said under
his breath when his father had firmly forbidden him to
go out at night with Frank Rudolph, Ned Jones, and
the oiner boys whose fathers were not so particular.
Fred coiddn't help a little start for fear his father
might possibly be in the room now and overhear his
son's undutiful speech alter all.

"Who wants to go to Sunday-s< hool? I've had
enough of Sunday-school," said the familiar voice
again ; and this time it brought up the pic ture of his
mother's sad, shocked face when he had blurted out
those very words last Sunday, almost before he knew it.

So, it went on until it seemed as if every hard,
naughty, unkind word that I'red Newton :iad ever said
was pulsating through the air of thai parlor— white lies
and black lies, cutting things said before people's faces
and cruel things said behind their backs— and every one
of them seemed to have a sting in it. just as if they
were a swarm of hornets, so that i)oor F>ed was fairly
writhing in mental agony, when suddenly another voice,
this time not his own, but his beloved mother's, over-
powered all the others as it called out cheerily :

"Why, Fred dearest, what's the matter with you?
You're squirming about on the nig like an eel in hot
water. You shouldn't go to sleep so near the fire."

And Fred, springing to his feet with a cry of relief,
threw his arms around his mother's neck and giving her
a hug worthy of a young bear, while the tears brimmed
his bright eyes, exclaimed with a veh.enience that quite
astonished her :

^ NIAKR-DYINU WdRDS

" Mother Uarliiin, I'll never say ;vn unkind word

nguin

It would, of rourse, be too much to cxpc" t that
Krcd kc'i.i ills promise to the very letter ; hut this may
he said, at all events, thai both liis temper and his
tongue w -re better under < ontrol ever alter.

iikind svoril

fxptM t that
ml lliis may
per and his

^f'

ore

^f^i

iii;n lie. u-r
M a (• k a y , ilic
youngest son of " Hig
Sandy," as tlic tbrciuan
(if (jne of Ilurtlinan X:
Mdorc's liiin!icrin}4 sliaii-
tics was generally called,
begged to he allowed to
aci onipany his father to
the woods for the win-
ter's work, Mr. Mackay
at first would not hear
of it for a single moment.
Hector was his favorite son. being of a more gentle,
affectionate nature than his burly brothers, and he
feared that his slight frame might not be strong enough
to withstand the rough ami arduous life of the shanty.
Moreover, of the four boys. Ihn tor alone had seemed
to follow their mother's f.iilh ; and although T.ig
Sandy made small i>retentions to piety himself, he had
entire respect for it when he f(jund it sincere. Hector's
religion was as genuine as it was unobtrusive. The
foreman jiut perlect faith in his son, and he therefore

IN THE FOREFRONT OF THE FIRE

shrank from exposing his spiritual nature to the coarse
atmosphere of the shanty, just as he did from risking
his dehcate constitution in the rude camp.

Yet Hector argued him out of both objections, and
succeeded in winning his consent to his gohv back
with him into the woods.

"So be it then, my laddie," waf. the foreman's final
word. " I can' t stai.'d against your coaxing any longer.
Since ye maun go, ye may go. and I don't mind say-
ing I'll be right glad of your company."

(ilad too was Hector to carry his point, and in high
spirits he said "good-bye" to his mother, and with
his clothes and some books packed tightly into a canvas
bag, constituting his whole outfit, took his i)lace behind
the pair of stout horses that would bear the foreman
and himself away into the depths of the lumber district.

Among the books were two that he loved dearly ;
they were his Bible and a collection of Gospel Hymns
with the music. Willi the contents of both volurries he
was more familiar than many boys of his age ; and the
tliought was in his mind, although he had not expressed
it to his father, that if the men in the shanty would
only listen to him, he would like very much to read
to them his favorite chapters and sing to them his
special songs. He had a clear, sweet voice that was
well adapted for either reading or singing, and he de-
lighted to use it when he had fitting opportunity.

The winter in the shanty proved to be quite as full of
hardship as Big Sandy had anticipated ; but it did not
have the effect upon Hector that lie had apprehended.

IRE

IN THE ruREI'RO.NX OF THE IIKIC

to the coarse
from risking

jections, and
i goinc back

reman' s final
g any longer,
't mind say-

, and in high
er, and with
into a canvas
])lace behind
the foreman
mber district,
oved dearly ;
ospel Hymns
h volunies he
ige ; and the
not expressed
shanty would
nuch to read
to them his
nice that was
f. and he de-
rtiinity.
]uite as full of
)ut it did not
apprehended.

On tlic contrary the plain fare, the hard bed, and the
rough-and-ready kind of life, much of it being spent
out of doors breathing the cold, pure air of the pine
forest, did him a world of good. He grew stouter and
stronger every week, and found it easy to pertorm s.-Uis-
factorily the various light tasks assigned him.

Not only was he benefited physically, but instead of
tlie shantymen exorcising any deteriorating influence
over him, he had not been among them a week before
the influence was manifestly the other way. \\ ithout
his having to say a word, they found out for themselves
that oaths hurt him like l)lo\vs ; that foul stories and
songs were like foul smells to him ; and that if they
were willing to refrain from their bad habits for his sake,
!io was even more willing to make compensation by tell-
ing them stories and singing them liymns, the like of
whicli had never been heard in the Black River shan-
ties before.

Thus the long winter passed both ])leasantly and
l)rofitably for Hector ; and, as the result of the shanty-
men's toil, a large quantity of square tin;ber had been
gotten out to be floated down to Quel) -f , It was a
particularly fine lot and, prices being good, the foreman
was very anxious to get the drive safely and speedily
out into the broad, deep bosom of the Ottawa. .Ml
hands accordingly had been working very hani, and
Hector found the occupation of watching them and
helping as he could intensely interesting.

The men had good reason to exert themselves to the
utmost ; for with the spring had come a prolonged

IN THE FOREFRONT OF THE FIRE

droudit which gave them no small anxiety, since if the
rain held off many days n. ,re the water in the nvers
and streams would get so low as to " stick the dnve,_
and thus "hang up" the product of the>r w.nter s
work until the following spring. Instead of the sorely
needed rain, however, there wore furious gales of wmd,
w nch, aided by the sun, made the great forest of puie
that clothed the country extremely dry and ready to
flash into devouring flame at the slightest provocation.

\t last by dint of unsparing exertion and such con-
stant risking of life in running rapids and breakmg up
.'iams" as only "river drivers" know of, the great
army of ponderous -sticks," each one from twenty to
thirty feet in length, and from eighteen inches to three
feet square, had been brought within some thirty m.les
of the Otawa. Only a few rapids and shoots, jom.ng
broad, easy stretches of deep water, had yet to be
reckoned with, and then the worst of the work would

>. We're doing fine, boys." said Big Sandy at the
camp-fire, rubbing his horny palms together gleefully.
< > If we could only get a couple of days' ram now, we d
iust sail along the rest of the way." , , . . ,

But the rain seemed as far away as ever that night
The sun set in a perfect blaze of red, and the wind
blew strong and steady from the west.

"Rain long way ofT still," said Jean Btn't.s e, the
plnmp cook of the camp, who rather pnded himself
upon being weather-wise.^ " Dis river soon dry up;
not much water left now."

, since if the
in the rivers
: the drive,"
heir winter's
of the sorely
Tales of wind,
forest of pine
and ready to
provocation,
.nd such con-
i breaking up
of, the great
rom twenty to
nches to three
lie thirty miles
shoots, joining
ad yet to be
tie work would

; Sandy at the
jther gkvfuUy.
rain now, we'd

ver that night,
and the wind

n Baptiste, the
prided himself
soon dry up ;

IN THE FOREFRONT OK THE FIRK

8 I

" Vou dry up yourself, Johnny," shouted Hig Sandy,
throwing a bit of bark at him. " None of your croak-
ing here. \'o\\ don't know any more al)out it than tiic
rest of us."

" Maybe no " retorted the cook, shaking his head
knowingl)-. "Hope not, anyway."

The days that followed however. (|uite fulfilled jean
Haptiste's forecast. Not a drop (jf rain fell, and the
eagerly desired freshet sliowed no signs of coming to
tJie lumbermen's assistance.

" It's no use trying to get through with this amount
of water," Sandy announced some evenings later.
" I'll, have to go back to Manitou dam and let out the
reserve. I reckon that will carry us through all right."

No sooner had he spoken than Hector piped u\^
with the recjuest, " May I go too, fatlier ? "

'' You'll be only in the way, but I'll not say ye
nay," was the somewliat rough response.

"Oh, I'll helj) all lean," responded Hector cheer-
fully.

Accordingly the next morning, taking fourteen of tlie
gang with him, and a long swift canoe called a " racer,"
the foreman went back up tlie Manitou to the reserve
dam. This had been built without a waste gate ; and
consecpiently, in order to let the water out, it was nec-
essary to throw aside the stones and cut away tlie logs
and sheeting ; a job that gave all hands some five hours
of hard work, during which they hardly looked about
them.

In the meantime the wind rose, and before tluir

82 IN THE FOREFRONT OF THE FIRE

work was finished it was blowing a regular gale The
sun had been shining brightly all the morning, but sue •■
denly a dark c:U>ud appeared in the west and sw.fUy
sped across the sky until it had obscured the sun, .md
attracted the attention of Hector, who at once called
to his father to ask its meaning. At the same nuMuen
a long, low, rumbling sound like distant thunder, but
as continuous as the rushing of a long expn .s ttnn.
over an iron bridge, made itself heard, ana wUb. a
shout of alarm, Big Sandy called out to the men :

-rhe timber's afire, and the wind's .1own.g th.s
way ! We must make the lake before the fire reaches
us, or we're done for." ,

Instantly there was a stampede for the ...ioe, mto
which the men tund)led peii-mell, and tw., uunutes
later the racer was darting through .h. water at the
bidding of fifteen strong pairs of anns.

.' Paddle for your lives, boys ! " shout.d H.g Sandy,
making his stout steersman's bind, bend M .very stroke,
while the stalwart men put tu. r ,vhole strength mto
their work, s.M.dhig the long canoe shootmg hke an
arrow thro,..^ ^e foaming stream, now swollen .>y the
,ddition of th.- ^serve water. In the bow crouched
Hector, r- s k.epmg an eye ahead so as to g.ve warn-
ing of rocks and shallows, now glancing anxiously b,.-
hind at the awful pursuer.

They had a long stretch of narrow nver to pass
through, where to be caught by the fire meant certmn
death from falhng trees or scorching flame ere they
could get ouv upon the broad lake, which offered then-

•'^*..

IBE

r gale The
ing, but sud-
t and swiftly
the sun, and
t once called
■;amo moment
thunder, but
ex\'''^s train
, and with, a
he men :
i Mowing this
lie fire reaches

lie i.uioe. into
two minutes
water at the

[f-A ' Hig Sandy,
>* ..very stroke,
» strength into
lOofiVAg like an
swollen !>y the
; bow crouvhed
as to give Watn-
g anxiously b.i-

w river to pass

e meant certain

flame ere they

ich offered their

IN THE FOREFRdNT OF THE FIRE

only chance of esca\)e. Not a word was sjioken save
by Sandy who, from time to time called out encour-
agingly to the straining, sweating paddlers :

"That's the way to do it, boys ; give it to her for
all you' re worth ! Keep that uj), and we' 11 be all right. ' '

Above their heads towered a black, appalling arch of
smoke, borne by the blast in advance of the llames,
out of whose sable bosom fiery flakes of moss, or glow-
ing fragments of wood were fLilling like Tartarean hail.
As the canoe shot down the stream it was accompanied
along the banks by an affrighted throng of bears,
wolves, lynxes, foxes, and deer ; all their mutual fear
or ferocity being forgotten in the general panic at the
red terror which followed so fast.

"It's mighty rough that we haven't got time to get
some of those skins," said Tom Martin, with a longing
look at two splendid black bears which were well in the
van of the hurrying herd ; for Tom was a trapper as
well as a shantyman, and he now saw more good dol-
lars' worth of fur than had greeted his eyes for years
past.

"We'd better make sure of saving our own skins
first," retorted Big Sandy grimly. "Paddle away
there and never mind the bears."

The scene as the swift canoe tore along was magnifi-
cent and terrible beyond all description. The flames
curled fiercely over the tops of pines that towered full
a hundred feet into the air, and great billows of smoke
in marvelous shades ot blue, black, purple, and blood-
r^d rolled up to th . sky. The wind came in hot gusts,

84 IN THE FOREFRONT OF THE FIRE

Striking the water with a force that scourged it into
vaporous spray, through the midst of which the racer
sped her arrowy course.

^ The men were perfectly silent now, the only vo.ce
being Big Sandy's, as he from time to time urged on
their paddling. The stream widened as -t approached
the lake, and Hector no longer found it necessary to
keep a lookout for dangers ahead. Keheved from tins
duty he was now kneeling in the bow praymg fervently
forlheir preservation from che awful death that threat-
ened. Observing what he was doing, his father called
out in a tone of warm approval :

-That's right, my laddie; s>c never needed jouv
prayers more. I promise you I'll be a better man .f
we get out of this alive."

From the countenames of the men it was clear that
'he foreman ^^ s not alone in welcoming Hector's ap-
peal for Divine assistance. The thought evidently
cheered them all, and when, a minute later, he turned
.round and in a strong, sweet voice began to smg,
■" Nearer, my Cod, to Thee," the effect upon them
was to revive their waning energies and to put .res.^
force into their straining strokes.

On they rushed through the foaming water, while
Hector sang that beautiful hymn. The fire ...s ever
coming closer as they drew nearer to their goal of safety.
As they came to where the stream lost itself in the lake,
a great wall of flame seemed to bar their further pro-
gress Hector was the first to notice it. He at once
;topped singing and betook h.mself again to prayer.

^*»\\

rged it into
:h the racer

e only voice
me urged on
t apiiroachcd
necessary to
red from this
jing fervently
1 that threat-
; father called

needed jouv
better man if

was clear that
Hector's ap-

ight evidently
ter, he turned
)egan to sing,
ct upon them
J to put fresh

y water, while
: fire was ever
r goal of safety.
;elf in the lake,
eir further pro-
. He at once
gain to prayer.

IN THE FOREFRONT OF THE FIRE

Big Sandy saw it then, and ejaculating, " Lord help us ;
we're surrounded ! " shouted to the men : " Lay on to
it now, boys ! Drive her ! Drive her ! We've got to
go through it I "

'I'hey grasped their paddles for a supreme effort",
bending their heads low to shield llieni from the burn-
ing blast, and straight at the flames they cliarged. The
hot tongues of fire were almost touching them, when a
mighty blast of wind parted them to right and left,
and through the opening thus providentially made the
canoe darted out into the lake where, by turning off to
the south, the pursuing flames were entirely avoided,
and they could rest upon their paddles while they
breathed the pure air untainted by the smoke of the
conflagration.

The moment the paddles paused in their work, Hec
tor began to sing,

"Prciso (lod from whom all blessings flow."

After a little hesitation his father joined in, and one
by one the other men who knew the grand old do.xology
lent their voices until the anthem of praise rang out
over the lake, opposing its glorious music to the roaring
of the relentless flames.

When the singing ceased. Big Sandy heaved a heavy
sigh, and wiping his dripping forehead, said in a voire
whose sincerity there was no (piestioning :

"I've not been the man I ought to have been ; but,
God helping me, I'll try to be a better one from this
day out."

— ^^■^""•■p^

IN THE FOREFRONT OF THE FIRE

He kept his resolution too, and Hector and his
mother soon had the happiness of having hin. join them
in the religious exercises they so greatly enjoyed and
of seeing Imn l.e.ome an active worker for the l-ord
and exerting for him the great inttucnce he possessed
among the lumbermen of the region.

tor and his
iin join them
.'iijoyed, and
)r die l-ord,
he possessed

It,*.

-fe^'-

U' W • f(j

'^.s;i!t:i'i;.A

OHN DENNIS
was by nature one
of those l)oys wlio are
easily misunderstood, and
as he grew in years, al-
. though he often had ex-
periences whi( h l)rought
■ this fact i)ainful.y hone to
him, he made little efort
^ to overcome the disadvan-

tage under which he was thereby pla( ed.

He certainly could not be called prepossessing at
first acquaintance. Gaunt and angidar of form, sallow
and freckled of fiice, his hair sparse and straggling-
there seemed nothing about him to attract one's atten-
tion, unless it were his awkwardness. In conversation
one was sure to find him most uninteresting. Short
and almost sullen replies were all he would vouchsafe to
(piestions, and the conversation woidd come to an end
as soon as one ceased making advances, for he would
never volunteer anything himself.

BITTKN IN THE IIF.KL

'I'lio fact of tlic iiiatler was, lie liad conic into the
work! liandicapja'd with a nature lliat pec uliarly needed
tender luvc and intelligent sympathy in order to its
right expansion and development, and those very ele-
ments had been especially lacking from his home life.
A stern, indifferent father and a mother wiio lavished
all her love and priile upon his elder brother, a hand-
some, bright, high-spirited boy two years his senior,
left him as much as possible to himself, with the result
that his shy reserve deei)ened and his taciturnity in-
tensified with the passing of '.he years.

Yet all the time within hi . nirt 'here stirred a spirit
for whose possession no one gave him credit, a spirit of
revolt against the fetters that so sorely hampered his
life, and of burning ambition to perform some action
whose heroic ciuality would reveal him in an altogether
new light, and prove to other people that he was made
of better stuff than they imagined.

" It isn't fair," he cried bitterly to himself one day,
after his mother, annoyed at his irresponsive silence in
the presence of some visitors, had been instituting hu-
miliating comjiarisons with his brother I'" rank, whose en-
gaging ease of manner certainly made him very attract-
ive. "I'm not built like Frank, but I can't help it.
I'm just what (lod made me. We can't all be the
same. If they'd only leave me alone ! Hut it's no
use ; I can't talk and smile and play the gentleman for
everybody, and so they think I'm no good for any-
thinrr"

He was silent for a moment as the full misery of his

ne into tlu'
arly needed
jrdcr to its
sc very ele-

liDine life.
1k) lavislied
ler, a liaiid-

liis senior,
h I lie result
; iturnity in-

irred a spirit
t, a spirit of
impered his
some action
.n altogether
le was made

elf one day,
,e silence in
stitnting hu-
k, whose en-
very attract-
in' t help it.
t all be the
Hut it's no
.Mitlcman for
)od for any-

iTiisery of his

BITTEN IN THE FIEKI.

«9

position swept over his soul like a great wave. I lu ii
he straightened himself ii]), an unwonted fire llashinj; in
his gray eyes ; lie < lenciied iiis freckled fi^ls together
and lifting a determined face toward the sky, evlainied:

" 1 don't (are i it's not going to he always like this."
.Some day I'll have the chanic to show them that I'm
not the duffel th y i am, and then "

He left .lenreiKc unfinished, and went off with

long, swift sicps toward the hill pasture where he had a
secluded nook of his own in which he spent manv
hours with n-) other companion than his dog ()s( .ir. a
fnie Irish setter, given to him as a pup by an urn le who
took ])ity on his evident loneliness.

in all the world, Oscar alone seemed to thoroughly
believe in and understand him. His great bmwn eyes
held more love and faith than poor John met anywhere
else, and every curly hair of the beautiful creature was
precious to him. It always comforted his heart to have
a good talk with Oscar, for, although the dog could say
nothing, he looked volumes, and John felt sure of his
heartfelt sympathy.

Dusk was gathering the scattered shadows into one
before the boy and dog made their way back to the
farmhouse. Oscar went off to his kennel beside the
barn, and John was about to go to his room when he
became aware that the household was in an unusual
state of turmoil. His mother's voice could be heard
from her room, giving orders in a tone of almost frantic
excitement, and the servants were rushing about in a
bewildered way, as if they did not know what to do

HITTF.N IN THE HEEL

With themselves. One of them, .atching si^hl of John,

called out : ,

'• Here ho is. Mrs. lKm,is ; hf's just come in.
Inunccli.tcly his ...other .ailed to him : " John, < ome

here, instantly !" . . ■

Verymu.h startle.l. John hastened .nto the room
Mis brother lay -l^nM the bed. luok-ng Kl>astly wh.te ...ui
fai.U. evidently from the loss of blood, fo. the whUe
<...„nter,.ane had a great dark stain ..,.on .t whcr. ns
right thigh pressed into it. Mrs. Dennis was s.lt.ng be-
side hi,., with both hands .:las,.ed t.ghtl) abort Im kg

just above the woi.nd. ... ;„

^. Have you come at last?" she ex.:la..ned. more .n
anger than re,roach. " And yo..r brother dy.ng here
furneed of a doctor.^ You're never to be to.,nd when
you're .nost wanted."

John made no reply. He had no idea of ue end.ng
hiinself. He could think of nothing but b.s brother
lying there bleeding to death.

'' .\re you both blind and dumb^" shneked Mrs.
Dennis in her excite.nent. " Don't you see what's to
be done? The doctor m,.st be fetched at once and
father's got the horse away with him. Ku.i w.th all
your might to the village and bring Dr. Henderson
back There's not a moment to lose."

John needed not another word. He was in h.s bare
feet ; the village of h:imvale was h.U tw miles distant,
and darkness would be upon him before ..e got half way
there But he cared not for these things. '1 he oppor-
tunity so long hoped for had co.ne. He would now

j/hi of John,

)nic ill."
'John, (ome

[hv room
,tly white and
or the white

1 it whcrt. his
vas silting be-
about his leg

ned, more in
er dying here
)e found when

I of defending
it bis brother

shrieked Mrs.
1 see what's to
1 at once, and
Run with all
)r. Henderson

was in his bare

miles distant,

..e got half way

gs. The oppor-

He would now

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

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Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques

' 'Hfe^#fefei!TJgk^v. ■a^Ma^«Sit'B^^ai!!tS ' a^!^' ' !gg^tJJ^^

BllTEN IN THE HEEL

show them all that he was no booby, that he could be
of service as well as anybody else when he had tlie
chance.

Darting out of the door he called to Oscar as he shot
past the barn, and in a minute they had both dis-
appeared toward the village.

While his bare feet pattered over the dusty road,
John's mind was busy considering how he could shorten
the way to Elmvale. In order to avoid a troubleson-.e
elevation known as Rattlesnake Bluff, the highway made
a wide detour. Some of the residents were accus-
tomed to use a rude path that skirted the other side of
the bluff, and shortened the distance fully a (luarter of
a mile. John knew this path perfectly, and the (pies-
tion was, whether to take it now or to go around by the
road. There were two serious objections to it : the
danger of tripping over a rock in the gloom and getting
a nasty fall and, still worse, the peril of a snake bite.
for the bluff deserved its name although the rattkrs
were few and far between.

Not until he reached the spot where the path
branched off did John decide. Then yielding to
sudden impulse he left the main road, and with a
scarcely slackened speed hastened along the short cut
that was barely discernible in the dim light. At every
step he expected to hear the horrible rattle that would
speak of deadly danger ; yet he kept steadfastly on.
Oscar followed close at his heels. He had almost dr-
cled the bluff, and in another minute would have been
out upon the meadow on the other side, free from all

. ■ t-iu ' Hn ' .- " ' -9 ;- "'

BITTEN IN THE HEEI.

risk of harm, wlicn suddenly Oscar sniffed suspi -iously,
and then gave a warning hark. Ahnost at the same in-
stant a fiene rattle broke the slill evening air, and a
sickening musty txlor befouled its sweetness.

With a cry of alarm John sprang high into the air,
for right in the path lay a dark shape whose awful char-
racter had already been revealed both by sound and
scent. The leap was a good one, but did not foil the
rejjtile. As (piick as a lightning stroke it shot out its
hideous head, and he felt a sharp sting in his left heel.

With what marvelous (piickness the mind will act !
The instant after the bite John's course of action was
decided upon. Throwing himself dow^n, he caught his
heel and pressed it in his mouth, sucking fiercely at
the wound, and spitting out the blood that issued from
it. Then, opening the sharpest blade of his pocket
knife, he cut out the flesh completely around the bite
and put the gai)ing wound thus made to his mouth.
Next he whipped out his handkerchief, bound it around
his foot as best he could, and saying to himself,
"There, now, I guess that'll stay fixed until I get
to the doctor's," ran off again with hardly abated
speed, although every movement of his left foot sent a
pang of agony straight to his heart.

He still had nearly a mile to go, but happily it was
along the smooth main road all the way. Little by
httle, in sjiite of all his resolution, his pace slackened,
for the loss of blood and the pain told severely upon
him. ^'et he doggedly kept on, every few yards mut-
tering through his clenched teeth :

1 siispi iously,
t the same iii-
ng air, and a
;ss.

I into the air,
se awful char-
)y sound and
I not foil the
it shot out its
1 his left heel,
iiind will act !
of action was
he caught his
ng fiercely at
at issued from
of his pocket
•ound the bite
to his mouth.
)und it around
g to himself,
d until I get
hardly abated
left foot sent a

happily it was

ly. Little by

ace slackened,

severely upon

"ew yards mut-

BITTEN IN THF. HEEL

"I won't stop. I won't give in. I'll get there if I
die for it."

The darkness deepened about him until tlie dusty
road became a mere ghostly streak through its center.
No sound of wheels or of human voices broke the soft
evening silence. He seemed to be utterly alone, al-
though here and there he could see the lights Hashing
from the windows of the farmhouses scattered through
the wide-s]ireading fields.

Dr. Henderson's house stood in the outskirts of
Klmvale, and John's shortest course was by a back
road lying at right angles to the main street. Few
people, therefore, observed the barefooted, bareheaded
boy limjjing hurriedly along and muttering to himself
as though he might be drunk or demented. No one
recognized him and he spoke to no one.

On he kept in spite of suffering, weariness, and a
strange giddiness that made him stagger at times almost
to falling. He was in the doctor's street now. He
could see the light gleaming from the surgery window.

" Thank God I he's at home ! " he jianted.

One more tremendous effort that seemed to exhaust
every particle of strength still remaining, and he reached
the steps of the house and dragged himself up by
means of the hand-rail, jiushed open the surgery door
without waiting to ring, and then collapsed into a big
arm-chair with a husky cry of ;

" Home, doctor, please, quick ! Frank's dying."

Dr. Henderson had been writing when the boy thus
burst in upon him. Springing to his feet he called out

BITTEN IN THE HEEL

to the servant to have his horse gotten ready at once,
and then, turning to John, said in a kindly tone :

"You're done out, my boy. You've had a hard
run. I must get you a drink." Then his quick eye
catching sight of the blood-stained handkerchief bound
:;.out the heel, he exclaimed: "But svhafs this?
You've hurt your foot. Let me look at it."

" Rattlesnake bit me." murmured John, in a scarcely
audible voice, and as the doctor made a swift move-
ment toward him, his powers of endurance reached
their limit and he fell back in the chair in a dead faint.
With skilled alertness Dr. Henderson tmbound the
heel, gave a .vhistle of surprise and concern when he
saw the wound, and without wasting a moment, pro-
ceeded to cleanse it thoroughly, drench it with a strong
antiseptic, and bind it up in clean linen, saying as he

did so : ■

"Most extraordinary thing! The boy's a regular

hero ; and he's done the best possible thing too."

By' the time the bandaging was completed, John's
faintness had passed away, and he opened his eyes with
a look of inquiry that turned to one of relief, as he saw
what had been done for him.

«'I cut it out, doctor," he said, adding in an anx-
ious tone, "was that right?"

"Right? yes, exactly." replied the doctor heartily,
" since you had the pluck to do it. You've no doubt
saved your life. Come, now. let me help you mto my
carriage and we'll hurry home."

The drive back was like a dream to John. He tried

=4,.,

BITTEN IN THE HEEL

eady at once,
ly tone :
e had a hard
his quick eye
:erchief bound

what's this?
it."

n, in a scarcely
a swift move-
rance reached
n a dead faint.
I unbound the
ncern when he

moment, pro-
it with a strong
1, saying as he

boy's a regular
hing too."
npleted, John's
ed his eyes with
reUef, as he saw-
ling in an anx-

doctor heartily,
'ou've no doubt
elp you into my

[ohn. He tried

hard to answer the (juestions put to him, but a strange
Hlu])or obscured hi:- senses and he could not make the
matter very clear. When they arrived at tl.e farm-
house the doctor helped him out, and then bidding him
lie down until he c(juld see him again, hastened into
the room where Mrs. Dennis, still holding tightly to her
son's thigh although her strength was well-nigh gone,
awaited him with wild anxiety.

Happily he had not come too late. The cruel gash,
which Frank had received by falling into a mowing ma-
chine with which he had been meddling, was deftly
brought undertreatment, and Mrs. Dennis who, dread-
ing lest her darling should bleed to death had been
using her own hands as a ligature, was relieved of her
trying task. The moment Frank had been duly band-
aged the doctor turned about, saying ;

" And now I must see to John. Where is he ? "

"John!" cried Mrs. Dennis in a tone of surprise
not unmingled with alarm. " Is there anything the
matter with him? "

"That there is," responded Dr. Henderson, "some-
thing very serious the matter. I must see him at once."

John was found lying upon his own bed in a con-
dition more of the nature of a swoon than of sleep.

"He must be aroused at once," said the doctor,
"and kept awake at any cost."

Mrs. Dennis felt inclined to rebel against attention
being thus distracted from her favorite ; but the doc-
tor's tone and manner were not to be gainsaid, and his
directions were promptly carried out.

BITTEN IN TUK MEET.

The rest o( the story is easily told. John recovered
from the effc. ts of the bite even more 'l>.u:kly than
Frank did fr..n. his wound, and when he uune ou o l,s
roon. auain he found liimsolf in a greatly changed
risph'erc. Dr. Henderson had told of h,s hero.c
acc<l to the whole country-side. I'raise of the shy, re-
served bov, whom so many esteemed stu,.>d, was upon
every li,..' Nowhere was the alteration of feelmg more
marked than at home. 'H^e iatl.r suddenly reah.,ng
that John had •' souK-thing in him after all, ' showed an
interist never manifested before; the -^he^- g^^e^d
for the service he had rendered an<l remorseful for he
neglect of the past, sought to make reparation by be-
t nving the regard hitherto withheld ; whde Hank,
Xg his <:ue iVom them, no longer treated his brother
as though he was nothing to hmi.

It was the beginning of a new era m Jo. n's he, and
,Uhough, of course, the way henceforth was not by any
means a path of roses, still it undoubtedly proved a
^et an J brighter way than it possibly could ^ave been
but for the courage and resolution shown by hnn when
he took the short cut around Ratdesnake liluff.

I l gjly^lji

111 rc( 'ivercd
luickly than
lie out of his
.Uly (hanged
jf his heroic
f the shy, re-
iid, was upon

feeling more
enly reah/ing
," showed an
jther. grateful
irseful for the
aration by be-

while Frank,
ed his brother

o.-n's Ufe, and
ivas not by any
;edly i)roved a
3uld 'lave been
11 by him when
e Bluff.

HAPPY day it was for Eric Stewart and his

pale, careworn mother when tiie welcome

news came of his appointment as

page in the Canadian

^ . House of Commons.

*^ ■

5§((^.~ , Ever since Mr. Stewart,
who was a ( lerk in the

Civil Service, with a small sal-
ary which gave him no chance to save anything, died
suddenly two years before, there had been hard times
with the wife and little son he left behind ; but by
keeping up a brave heart and doing whatever suitable
work she could get, Mrs. Stewart managed to ])rovide
for both until this winter. But then, just as the cold
became intense and food and fuel dearest, her health
gave way, and the doctor told her that if she wanted
to live much longer she would have to take complete
rest for at least three months.

Poor Mrs. Stewart ! It was all very well to tell her
that she must rest, but how were she and I'.ric to live if
she could earn nothing? Everything looked so dark

G 97

eric's ordeal

and hopeless that only her faith in (lod kept hei from
utter despair. And (lod did not fail her in this trying
time ; for Mr. Patterson, a member of parliament, who
had been a good friend of Kric's father, happening to
hear uf their distress, came to see Mrs. Stevart and of-
fered to use his influence in securing the position of page
for the sturdy little lad. whose handsome face and brave
blue eyes made everybody like him at once. His efforts
happily jiroved successful, and when the note came an-
nouncing Kric's appointment there were not two happier
people in the city than the widow and her boy. .And
oh. how proud Kric felt days afterward, as clad in his
beautiful dark-blue suit, all studded down the breast
with bright silver buttons, and looking the very ideal
of a page, he danced about his mother's room full of
eagerness to be off to the Parliament building !

He might well feel proud ; for was he not to earn a
whole dollar every day of the week, even Sundays being
counted, for the next three months at least, and thus
keep a sick mother in comfort all through the long win-
ter she had dreaded so much ?

Of course it would be hard work ; Mr. Patterson had
told him that. He would have to be on duty from ten
o'clock in the morning until six in the evening, or from
three o'clock in the afternoon until midnight or later,
day and day about ; which arrangement did not leave
much time for play. But Eric made up his mind to
this and, his mother having taught him whatever he did
to do it with all his might, he soon became the favorite
page in the House, not merely because he was the best

eric's ordeal

pt hci from
1 tliis trying
aiuciit, who
iljpcning to
rart and of-
tion of page
e and brave
His efforts
ite came an-
two happier
boy. And
i clad in his
1 the breast
le very ideal
room full of
ng !

lOt to earn a
indays being
St, and thus
he long win-

'atterson had
uty from ten
ning, or from
ight or later,
lid not leave
his mind to
itever he did
; the favorite
was the best

looking, but because he gave his whole mind to his
work and made so few mistakes.

I'arliamcnt had been two months in session and Kric
was beginning to get very tired of it, for tiie sittings
grew longer and tiie work heavier as the end of tlie ses-
sion drew near, when one night Mr. I'atterson, who had
all along taken a good deal of interest in him, noticing
how pale and tired the poor boy looked as he rested
his weary little legs for a few moments at tlie bottom of
the Speaker's dais, called Kric to him, intending to have
a little talk with him. Hut as l^ric came uj) the division
bell rang, so, drawing a fat roll of crumpled Ijills from
his pouket, Mr. Patterson hurriedly picked out one and,
without looking at it, slijjped it into the boy's hand,
whispering ;

"Here, my lad, is a dollar for you. Run and get
some cake and coffee from Mother Bunch," Mother
Bunch being an old lady who was allowed to keep a
little coffee stall in one corner of the great porch.

Kric was so surprised at this unexpected gift that he
did not look at the bill either, but stuffed it into his
pocket while saying thanks, and then the next moment
he was called off somewhere else and kept so busy until
the House rose that he (juite forgot he had it. When
he did look at the bill what was his astonishment to find
that instead of being for only one dollar it was for ten
dollars !

Of course his first thought was to give it right back to
Mr. Patterson. But that gentleman had already gone
home ; so, saying to himself that he would return it in

100

EKIC'S ORDEAI.

the morning, I'.ric tniilgcd off to liis own home about
as weary a little hul as there was in all that city.

IVrhaps it was l)e<anse he felt so tired out that the
tempter found it so easy to get into his thoughts. Any-
way, he diil get there, and this was what he said as
Kric walked slowly honieward :

" 1 wouldn't give that hill ba.k if I were you, Kric.
How do you know he didn't mean to give you ten
dollars instead of only one? Members often do give
pages as mu.h as that. Why, Mr. Wright gave Will
Murray that mu( h only the other day. Ihit even if he
didn't he'll never know the difference. Just see what
a lot of money he had all crumpled up in his pocket,
more money than ever your mother had at once in her
Ufe. And he is so ri( h too ! Vou would better keep
the money for yourself, you know. Your mother gets
all your wages, and it's only fair you should have some-
thing too. Just think of the number of things you
could buy with ten dollars !"

All this, and more too. did the wily tempter whisper
to Eric, for although nobody could see him, there he
was, walking beside the boy the whole way home. And
1 am sorry to tell that I'.ric, instead of saying at once,
"(let thee behind me, Satan," let him talk away until
at last he actually persuaded him to go off to bed without
s;iying a word to his mother on the subject. His con-
science pricked him pretty sharply as his mother bent
over him with a good-night kiss and a blessing on her
darling boy. and again at fomily prayer next morning,
; , that he found it hard work to keep his guilty secret.

ERIC S ORDEAL

lOI

liomo about
city.

Jilt that the

yhts. Any-

hc said us

c you, Krif.
ivc you ten
ftun do give
ht gave Will
it even if he
lust see what
1 his pocket,
; onre in her
I'etter keep
mother gets
J liave some-
f things you

npter whisper
lim, there he
home. And
ying at once,
ilk away until
o bed without
ct. His con-
mother bent
essing on her
lext morning,
; guilty secret.

15ut keep it he did. and all through the next day too,
although every time he lookeil at Mr. Patterson iiis
(heel^>■ got very red and his eyes dowM(ast. Ome
Mr. Patterson beckoned to him and I'.tU'h lieart
thriii)bed violently with tear lest tiie mistake had been
discovered. Imt his kind friend only asked after .Mrs.
Stewart and hoped she was getting better, 'i'he day
seemeil awt'iilly long to V.iu\ and many a time he heart-
ily wished he had never seen the liateful bill whic li
was now hidden away securely in a ( orner of his < luset
at home.

When Sunday came the unhaiijjy boy felt so miser-
able over his sin that he would have been giail of any
excuse to stay away from 8imday-s( hool ; but ii(» ex-
cuse turned up. and he had not the ( ourage to invent
one. As it happened, the lesson for that day was the
sad story of Achan, and lyric's tea( her spoke \ery ear-
nestly to his boys about the "accursed thing." I'.very
word he said went right to wretched little l''.ric's heart.
It seemed as if the lesson was just for him, ami for
him only, and it was such a relief when the school
(•losed and he could run away from it ; but he could
not run away from his guilty conscien< e. That went
with him everywhere, and now it was talking to him a
good deal more plainly than the tempter had talked
on Friday night. The awful words, "accursed thing,
accursed thing," rang in his ears and repeated them-
selves over and over. His heart was as heavy as lead,
and all the spring had gone out of his usually jaunty
step.

102 eric's ordeal

His mother could not help noticing her bo> s un-
happiness, and not knowing the cause she feared he
was feeling ill : but Eric insisted that there was nothing
the matter with him. At last he could stand it no
longer. It seemed to him that if he kept that dreadful
^en-dollar bill he himself, and not the money, would be
the ' ' accursed thing. " So it came about that as m the
dusk of the evening he was sitting with his mother by
the fire while she read to him from " Pilgrim'ii Progress,"
a book he dearly loved, h- greatly surprised her by
suddenly bursting into tears and crying bitterly for some
time without being able to speak. When he did find
words to tell his mother the whole story she was crymg
too for it made her very sad to know that her little boy
should have yielded to the tempter and fallen mto so
arievous sin. But in spite of her tears, she felt so glad
that Eric had confessed his wrong-doing before being
forced i.^ it by some discovery. They had a long talk
together that night and Mrs. Stewart not only prayed
herself but made Eric pray also to God for his forgive-
ness After that he felt somewhat better, and then
she showed him that he must tell the one he had
deceived all about it, and ?:.k his forgiveness.

The hardest part of it all came next day, when Eric
had to go up to Mr. Patterson and with tear-stained face
and sob-choked voice put the b'll into his hands and
confess how wicked he had been. Much to his rehef
his good friend, instead of blaming him severely, listened
to the vhole story very kindly and attentively. Not
one harsh word did he n.y, but he asked Eric a good

ERIC S ORDEAL

103

g her boj s un-
m she feared he
here was nothing
)uld stand it no
:ept that dreadful
money, would be
out that as in the
th his mother by
Igrim's Progress,"
surprised her by
y bitterly for some
Vhen he did find
•ry she was crying
that her httle boy
and fallen into so
rs, she felt so glad
oing before being
;y had a long talk
t not only prayed
od for his forgive-
better, and then
the one he had
giveness.

;xt day, when Eric
th tear-stained face
nto his hands and
Much to his relief
m severely, listened
1 attentively. Not
asked Eric a good

many questions, and something bright glistened down
his cheek more than once as the poor little fellow sobbed
out his answers. Before Eric left Mr. Patterson, he felt
just as Pilgrim did when that cruel burden he had been
bearing rolled off his back and he could make so much
better progress, for Mr. Patterson, after giving him some
sympathetic words of advice, had granted him his full
forgiveness. Then all Eric's trouble vanished, and he
went around the Parliament buildings on the hop-skip-
and-jump, just to give vent to his feelings of grate-
ful relief. Those horrid accusing words, "accuised
thing, accursed thing," did not ring in his ears any
longer.

He had passed through the ordeal and God had
helped him to win a glorious victory. The lesson of that
ordeal he never forgot. Many a time in the years that
followed, when temptations beset his path, did those
words, "accursed thing, accursed thing," come up in
his mind and the memory of that dreadful feeling of
guilt give him strength to promptly turn the tempter
out.

Mr. Patterson took especial interest in him after
that trying confession, and as Eric's ch.-'.racter grew in
strength, he placed more and more confidence in the
boy. He gave hir.i a place in his immense business as
office-boy, and in time advanced him to the position of
clerk and even to that of cashier. And finally when
Mr. Patterson, whose friendship had never firiled, grow-
ing old and weary of business, offered his favorite clerk
a partnership, Eric Stewart, as he brought the glad news

104

ERIC S ORDEAL

home to his white-haired mother with the saintly face,
could not help exclaiming, while tears of joy ran down
his face :

"Thank God, mother, for that ten-dollar bill and the
less:."n it taught me."

s
I

i'81

lintly face,
' ran down

lill and the

l'>

«^«&
^-S?

— y NI.KSS \vc take the trouble |

to study closely for our- .'
selves the ways and manners of the
furred and feathered creatures that
help so much to make our world at-
tractive and interesting, we are apt
to have the idea that everything
[ ' ■ ■ " comes natural " to them, that they

^ty' do not have to learn things in the laborious ways
in which we must. But a delightful paper on gray
squirrels, in " Harper's," tells of the trouble the little
jther always had to teach her tiny youngs
sters to run fearlessly along the tree boughs
-and to leap from limb to limb, and
'■ \ another observer describes how
birds are taaght to sing.
It seems that a j)retty little
wren built a nest for her-
-V self on a New Jer-
" " ' ' I _ , ' sey farm in such a

position that the occupants cf the liouse could watch

los

HI o

1 06

STORIES OF ANIMALS AND BIRDS

what was going on without distiirl)ing the i)roceeJings.
When her downy brood had arrived at the proper age
they did not take to singing of their own accord, so
she set about teaching them. I'lacing herself in front
of them, as any other music-teacher would, she sang
her whole song slowly and distinctly.

One of the little fellows immediately attempted to
imitate her, but after getting out a few notes its voice
broke, and it lost the tune. The little mother there-
upon commenced where the learner had failed, and
went very carefully through tlie remainder. The
young one tried again, beginning where it had left off,
and continuing as long as it could, and v;hen the notes
were once more lost the mother patiently took up the
tune and finished it. Then the other resumed where
it had broken down, and persevered, until in its turn it
reached the end. This accomplished, the motlier sang
over the whole series of notes from the start with great
precision, her pupil following her carefully, and so they
kept it up until the little thing had the whole song by
heart. The same course was followed with the other
occupants of the nest until each one of them had be-
come a perfect songster, and the proud mother's task
was finished.

The same point is illustrated by what another ob-
server saw on the seashore one summer afternoon. It
was a lovely day, and the tide was genUy making its
way up the beach, sending glistening wavelets on ahead
that advanced and retired with musical murmurings.

STORIES OF ANIMALS AND BIRDS

107

irocceJings.

proper age

accord, so

self in front

d, she sang

ttempted to
ites its voice
other there-
failed, and
der. The
had left off,
>n the notes
took up the
Limed where
in its turn it
motlier sang
rt with great
and so they
hole song by
di the other
hem had be-
lother's task

another ob-
"ternoon. It
y making its
lets on ahead

murmurings.

Presently a party of callow ducklings came waddling
soberly into sight. They were evidently very young,
but they had a mind for a swim, and made no doubt of
being able to enjoy it on a body of water so large and
tempting as the Atlantic Ocean.

With all the dignity of ducks this party went down
the beach. 'Ihey were in no haste. The whole after-
noon was before them ; the sun was warm ; they had
just had dinner ; and they were ready to enjoy them-
selves. Just as they reached the water, a gentle wave
ran in, lifted the pretty yellow birdlings off their feet,
carried them all fiir up the sand, and then as suddenly
retreated, leaving them there high and dry wliile it re-
joined the sea.

The ducklings, not a whit disconcerted by this shabby
joke of old Neptune, gathered themselves together and
again started down the beach in good order. Again
the saucy wavelets came up to meet them, and again
they were carefidly set down far up the shore.

Were they discouraged by this, or did they go off in
a huff at the ocean's aggravating behavior? Not a bit
of it ! They wanted a swim and a swim they would
have. So once more they made the attemjjt, just as
dignified, just as amiable, just as earnest about it as if
they had not hitherto been provokingly thwarted. Of
course they met the same fate, but as long as the ob-
server had time to watch them, this amusing game went
on ; the wavelets carrying the ducklings back, and the
ducklings renewing the charge patiently and persistently
during the long lovely afternoon.

io8

STORIES OF ANIMALS AND BIRDS

What a wonderful thing is the sense of play in the
lower animals ! How dose it sometimes seems to
bring their intelligence to ours ! I love to watch two
dogs playing chase on a wide lawn. Surely no two
boys, however bright they might be, could put more
spirit into the performance or get more pure fun out of
it. Especially interesting to them is the very thing that
children so enjoy, that is, the "make-believe." Why,
a couple of clever spaniels will, if not disturbed, keep
this' up for an hour at a time, as cleverly aii it could be
done in any nursery.

A remarkable instance of humor is related by Mr.
Crosse, the distinguished naturalist. His study window
commanded a view of a court-yard which was sheltered
by high walls and remote from noises or disturbance of
any kind. Hapi)ening to look out one day, he saw a large
robin engaged in dragging the apparently dead body of
another robin round and round in a circle on the pave-
ment. It looked as though the live robin had fought a
duel (i outrance with the other, and having come off
victorious was indulging in the cruel triumph of pulling
the lifeless body of its vancpiished rival over the stones,
as Achilles dragged Hector around the walls of Troy.
But just as Mr. Crosse had worked out this reasonable
conclusion, the live robin suddenly stopped and threw
itself upon its back as though stark dead. Its wings
were half distended an \ rigid, and its legs upturned to
the sky. Never, to all sejming, had there been a robin
more dead than it was. Meanwhile the other robin
went through an exactly converse transformation. It

tei tea Mt ! g » j.Uj.i! '' ilJ. ''^

STORIFii OF ANIMAI,S AND HIRPS

109

play in the
i seems to

wall h two
ely no two

])ut more
e fun out of
y thing that
e. ' • Why,
irbed, keep
it could be

ted by Mr.
idy window
as sheltered
turbance of
t; saw a large
t;ad body of
)n the pave-
lad fought a
ig come off
h of pulling
r the stones,
Us of Troy.
s reasonable
d and threw
Its wings
upturned to
jeen a robin
other robin
mation. It

had been only shamming dead, a.id now woke into full
and vigorous life. Seizing on its feathered playmate, it
dragged the latter in its turn all around the same (ircle,
and re|)eated the process several times. Kin .Uy both
actors flew off together to a neighboring tree, no doubt
to rest themselves after their fatiguing game.

Now were not those robins clever little fellows?
Who could blame tiiem for having what the Scotch call
a " gude conceit o' themselves," when they were
capable of getting uj) such an elaborate bit of make-
believe as Mr. Crosse was lucky enough to witness ?

Backwoodsmen, who have the best possible oppor-
tunities for studying the ways and manners of the wild
creatures of the wilderness, tell us that the more
carefully we observe them the more human-like we will
find them to be.

One who has spent many years among the forests of
Ontario avers that he has seen bear babies play, tum-
ble, laugh, and cry, just as our own children do, and
that sometimes a whole bear family would greet his eyes
as they walked soberly along together, precisely like a
family of people going to church.

Ihe same authority assures us that "Brer Bar"
does not hesitate to scold in the most natural way pos-
sible when his feelings are tried over-much. An old
chap that he suddenly encountered in a blueberry patch
on a rock, at once made for the other side in great haste,
and treading in some loose moss, lost his footing and
fell over d cliff nearly twenty feet high, landing with a

I lO

STORIES OF ANIMALS AND niRDS

bumj) on tlie hard stones below. As he got up t;j con-
tinue his flight his tone and remarks sounded decidedly
ill-humored and emphatic.

Another time this observer met a year-old bear in
the height of the mosipiito season. He was walking on
three legs and using his spare paw to rub his itching
nose, all the while giving utterance to his opinions on
the mosipiito plague with a force and fervor worthy of
an army mule driver with his team hopelessly mired.

Some time ago a big bear took possession of a de-
serted railway camp at Scjuaw Hill and held the fort for
three years, in spite of being often fired at by men pass-
ing on hand-cars or lorries. One evening a French-
Canadian cook was crossing a trestle bridge not far from
bruin's castle, vWien he was heard shouting by those
behind: " Clet away ! Get back ! (let off ! " His
companions hurried and found him on the center of the
trestle beating two tin plates like cymbals and dancing
like a dervish. At the other end of the bridge ap-
peared the cause of his excitement, a huge bear coming
at him, stepping steadily from tie to tie.

But for the timely arrival of reinforcements, the con-
se(piences of the meeting might have proved serious for
Jean Baptiste. As it was, Mr. Bruin decided that dis-
cretion was the better part of valor, and with a cross
remark effected a reluctant retreat.

A more thrilling encounter was that which took place
between the heroic wife of a habitant farmer in Argen-
teuil County, Quebec, and an enormous bear in the

STORtES OF ANrMAr.S AND niRHS

ITI

t up t;> con-
d decidedly

old bear in
i walking on
i his itching
opinions on
or worthy of
>ly mired,
ion of a de-
I the fort foi
)y men pass-
g a French-
not far from
ng by those
off!" His
center of the
and dancing
; bridge ap-
bear coming

tits, the con-
d serious for
ded that dis-
with a cross

:h took place
er in Argen-
bear in the

early part of winter not many years ago. Bears had
been very i)lcntifiil in the locality, no less than ten
having been killed by a single hnnter in a week.

One Satiirilay Madame i.eblanc, of La (lare, was
haiiging^oiit some clothes in the yard behind the house.
Her baby was in its cradle playing hapi)ily with toys,
while another child, a boy eight years old, sat upon
the doorstep watching his mother. 'I'he father had
gone off to the woods. S ddenly the boy rushed
toward his mother, crying, "A big dog is coming into
the house."

Madame Leblanc turned her head in time to see a
big befir disappear through the door.

Bidding her son run up the ladder into the granary
and thus got out of danger, the brave woman seized an
axe and dashed into the house to face the intruder,
now almost ujjon the cradle. 'I'he great creature was
bleeding from the shoulder, as if already wounded, and
was in a fit humor to fight. Rising upon its hind legs
it reared for battle, and a desperate struggle ensued,
the woman wielding the keen axe w-ith marvelous skill
and inflicting woimd after wound. During the conflict
the cradle was overturned, and the terrified baby thrown
almost under the bear's paws. But before any harm
could be done to the little thing, the eight-year-old boy
showed that he had I'is mother's spirit by snatching up
the infant and carrying it off up in the granary.

Soon the infuriated beast struck the axe out of his
antagonist's hand with one fierce blow, and with an-
other felled her to the ground. Another moment and

113

ST(1RIE.S OF ANIMAIS AND lURDS

he would have torn her to pieces. Happily, however,
her frantic, cries had been heard by lier husband, who
was returning home accompanied by two powerful
bulldogs. 'I'he dogs readied the scene first, and hurl-
ing themselves upon tiie bear made him forget his in-
tended victim until Monsieur I.eblanc api)eared with
his gun and disposed of him by a well-aimed bullet.

On examining the creatiire's carcass it was found
that madame's axe had bitten deep in no less than
fifteen places.

There was great excitement at the farm of Mr. Ciower
Price, in Nortliumberland country. New Ikunswick,
one fine March morning ; for, while pitching down hay
to the hungry cattle, Mr. I'rice had made a discovery
the like of which had certainly never been known in
tht: country-side before. The mow was a big one, and
the part he attacked that morning had not previously
been disturbed, and there, right in the heart of the
hay, curled up as snugly as possible and sleeping the
sleep begun at the beginning of the winter, lay a fine
black bear.

To say that the worthy farmer was surprised would
hardly do justice to his feelings. To the finding of rats
and mice in his mows he was (juite accustomed, and he
knew how to deal with such unbidden guests. But a
bear presented an altogether different problem, and not
feeling ccpial to solving it unaided, he called in the
assistance of his neighbors. The news of the wonder
quickly spread, and soon the spacious barn was filled

STORIES OF ANIMALS AND niROS

'13

y, however,
isbarnl, who
vo powerful
it, ami luirl-
)rgcl his in-
l)earccl with
•d bullet.
L was found
no less than

if Mr. (lower
• Hrunswick,
ng down hay
L" a discovery
;n known in
big one, and
ot previously
heart of the
sleeping the
er, lay a fine

rprised would
inding of rats
)med, and he
lests. But a
)lem, and not
called in the
>f the wonder
am was filled

with eager visitors, who very gingerly approached the
mow and took a peep at this novel "sleeping beauty."
'I'hen, of course, they pnu ceded to advise Mr. I'rice.

Some said, "Shoot him before he wakes u|). "
Others, of a more adventurous sjiirit, said: "No;
that's not sport. Set the dogs on him, and let us have
some fun." Hut a shrewd old hunter, who knew the
value of a live bear in the market, gave belter ( ounsel
still. " lie won't wake up for another fortnight," he
said, "and before then I'll come over and tie him uj)
with ropes, so that he can't hurt himself or any one
else. Then we'll put him in a cage, and when he's in
condition again he'll sell for a good sum."

This was what Mr. I'rice did. When " Hrer Bar,"
as Uncle Remus would call him, awoke out of his long
nap, it was to find himself bound beyond all possibility
of breaking free, and two months later, looking his very
best, after being well fed and cared for, he was sent to
the United States, where, perhai)s, at this moment he
is one of the chief attractions of some menagerie.

An organ grinder who was traveling through the West
of England, accompanied by a tame brown bear, whi( h
he had trained to dance, stopped at a farmhouse late
one afternoon, and after greatly amusing the family by
his performance — for his organ was a fine one. and the
bear very docile and intelligent — he had no difificulty in
obtaining permission to stay all night. He himself was
given a bed in the boys' room, but his furry companion
had to be content with a snug corner in the barn.

114 snmrEs of animm-s and nmns

\ little alter midniglU there .a.uc sik h alarming
n..ises fn.m the barn, whi.^h was only a few paces away,
as t(. awaken evcrl....ly in the house. Kranti. shrieks ol
"Help' Help!! Murder !!" and sounds as of a
strong man struyglinn desperately for dear life, issued
upon the still ni^ht air,

Murriedlv drawing on some .lothes. the farmer
snat.hed up a lantern and. followed by the organ
grin.ler. hastened to the barn. On the d..ors bemg
thrown oi.en. the rays of the lantern revealed a large
man engaged in a furii.us wrestling mat. h with the bear,
from whose mighty embra< e he was vainly endeavoring
to escape. As the bear was inuz/led and had no .laws
to speak of. his victim stood in no great danger of
serious injury, but his position was alarming enough
notwithstanding, and he implored the farmer to come

t(. his rescue. _

Divining, however, that this midnight visitor s mis-
sion was a dishonest one, for whi.h he .leserved to be
well punished, the organ-grinder called out to his pet,
" Hug him. Jack ! hug him ! '• and the bear, evidently
enjoying the sport, continued to s.pieeze the man
unmercifully, until the farmer, thinking the rogue had
suffered sufficiently, got the bear's owner to command

liis release.

It turned out that bruin's captive was a rascally
butcher who had come to steal a fine calf. In the
darkness he stumbled over the bear, and was at once
made prisoner. The farmer was so delighted at the
animal's conduct that in the morning he feasted him

(li aliirniing
paces away,
ti( sluicks 1)1'
uls as of a
r lilc, issued

the farmer
y the organ
doors being
ealed a large
vitli the liear,
' endeavoring
had no daws
at danger of
niing enough
rnier to come

visitor's mis-
leserved to be
:)Ut to his pet,
lear, evidently
;c/e the man
the rogue had
r to comiTiand

was a rascally
: calf. In the
ul was at once
.'lighted at the
he feasted him

SrORII-S OF ANIMALS AND niRDS

>'5

Upon the best in tlic ianlcr, anil gave his master a
sovereign as he was leaving.

botiie men engaged in lobster fishing on the Irish coast
were witnesses of a struggle, the like of which perhaps
is i\()t on record. As they rowed along the shore their
ears caught sounds of battle coming fron\ the top of a
steep hill, at whose base they floated, and they <t)uld
not at first make out the ( haracter oi the combatants,
until presently the frantic sipiealing of a cat made the
case plain to them.

A prowling cat, out bird-himting maybe, had lieen
hunted in turn by a big eagle, and was now battling for
its life.

A moment later the eagle rose into the air holding
the cat fast in its talons, although the featliers fell from
its breast in a way that showed the fight was far from
being one-sided. I'p, up, up, soared the coml^atants,
the caterwauling of pussy and the scattering of the
plumage contiiniing until the two creatures were but
one dim speck in the sky. Just at that moment they
parted company, and instantly the cat came shooting
down through the still air with frightfid velocity, now
gathered up into a ball, then stretched out at full lei gth.
The eagle followed much more slowly, its outspread
pinions serving to buoy it uj), although it apparently
made no effort to use them.

Determined to see the i nd of the strange affair, the
fishermen landed and hastened to the top of the hill.
There they found the eagle dead, with its breast so

I 16 STORIES OF ANIMAU5 AND BIRDS

terribly torn by pussy's ,>itiless daws that the very
bones were exposed. But the cat, where was she?
Not a sign of her could be discovered ; not even any-
thing to indicate the spot where she struck after her
fearful fall. She had shown herself more than a match
for the king of birds, and she may have survived a
tumble that would certainly have killed any other
creature without wings.

Divers meet many curious things when down below,
and have many startling experiences too. The boy who
longs to be a diver would probably be quite cured of
his notion by just ten minutes of what divers sometimes
have to see and do. Covered with copper, rubber, and
li^ad, until one weighs more than two ordinary men,
down he goes into the shadowy recesses of the deep,
where he remains for perhaps, hours at a time. In the
northern waters the horrible octopus lies darkly in wait
for him, ready .t the first opportunity to encircle him
with its long, clammy tentacles, whose strength almost
surpasses belief; and farther south the shark draws
dangerously near ; while in all waters fish large and
small gather around him in curious, excited throngs,
ofttimes fillii g him with apprehension lest some of them
should take a fancy to nip at the air tube upon which
his life depends.

A thrilling struggle between two divers and a devil-
fish, or octopus, of great size took place in the harbor
of Vancouver, British Columbia. The big main by
which the city is supplied with water from the eternal

W ' ^! * i »j m:pv.-t»i!i f &i0ti:i^f^3 f^y:f*^'^'^

^~B^r4'f^'^T•^^^.Sf^•

BIRDS

!S that the very
where was she?
J ; not even any-
1 struck after her
lore than a match
have survived a
killed any other

^hen down below,
)o. The boy who
be quite cured of
t divers sometimes
apper, rubber, and
wo ordinary men,
esses of the deep,
at a time. In the
lies darkly in wait
ity to encircle him
)se strength almost
1 the shark draws
ers fish large and
5, excited throngs,
n lest some of them
r tube upon which

divers and a devil-
lace in the harbor
The big main by
;r from the eternal

STORIES OF ANIMALS AND BIRDS

ii;

snows of the Coast Range, crosses the narrows at the
mouth of the harbor, and the steamer "Abyssinian,"
coming in heavily laden at low tide, struck this main with
her propeller, breaking the pipe in two. Two expert
divers named Llewelyn and Hardy were directed to
make tho necessary repairs. On reaching the bottom
in their diving suits th^y were considerably startled to
find a huge octopus lying directly over the break in the
pipe. Its dreadful tentacles were extended in all di-
rections, and through the clear, cold water its eyes
could be seen glowing with horrible malignity from
among the folds of its shapeless body.

Determined not to be daunted, even by so fearful a
monster, tiie divers advanced to the attack, the one
armed with a long crow-bar, the other with a heavy
hammer. Reaching out its snake-like tentacles, the
devil-fish sought to enfold the daring n^en, but the
slippery diving suits prevented it from getting a good
hold, and they broke away from its repulsive grasp
without much difficulty.

Emboldened by this they pushed to close quarters
and dealt blow after blow at the hideous creature, while
it writhed and struggled and, without yielding ground,
endeavored to enwrap its plucky assailants in its deadly
embrace. The strange fight continued until at length
Hardy ma: Tcd to get near enough to jjlunge his crow-
bar right in the center of tne infiiriated monster and to
repeat the thrust again and again. The struggle soon
ceased, and in a few minutes it was merely an inert
mass of ugliness.

•

ii8

STORIES (IF ANlMAIi^ AND RIRDS

Rctumir.g to their boat for a rope, the divers nade
(\ist the carcass and towed it up to the city. On ex-
amination it was found that the body of tlie devil-fish
was as large as a big washtid), and not less than two
hundred and fifty i)ounds in weight, while the tentacles
ranged in length from ten to thirty feet. The stomach
was full offish and crabs and the remains of shell fish.
I'he divers, naturally, were the heroes of the hour and
had good reason to congratulate themselves upon hav-
ing come so brilliantly out of their battle with one of
the most appalling inhabitants of the sea.

V. i

ivers :iade
( )n ex-
e devil-fish
is than two
le tentacles
he stomach
f shell fish,
e hour and
ui)on hav-
vvith one of

.'j^jwwiiHiUJP^,''.*

^1^ HAD a good many pots in iny boyhood
days, bill none of them ever filled the
place in my heart that Bright-eyes did.
It was (piite by accident that I came
across him. I had gone with my father
to market, and while he was busy buy-
ing berries and vegetables from the
market women, my roving eyes caught
3' sight of something that at first ooked
like a brown rat in a cage held by a countryman on the
other side of the street. Of course I hurried over to
see what it was. and much to my delight it proved *o
be a becutiful red squirrel, with a pair of the brightest,
prettiest eyes in the world, and a tail that was simply
superb., 'the countryir an seeing my interest, asked me
if I didn't went to buy the scpiirrel. " He is perfectly
tame," he spid, and opening the door, little bushy-tail
immediately sprang out, and running up on the man's
shoi'lder, looked down on me so roguishly that I felt as
though I must own him. Just then my fiither came
along, and I begged him to buy the scpiirrel for me.

119

120

BRIGHT-EVES

" Tut-tut ! " he objected ; "what do you want with
a squirrel ? You would get tired of it in a week."

"Indeed I wouldn't," pleaded I earnestly. "Just
see what a beauty he is, and ho\v cute ! No fear of my
getting tired of him."

We were right in front of the countryman now, and
the squirrel, as if understanding what I had said,
looked full at me, and the next moment sprang fear-
lessly upon my shoulder, whence he cjuickly scrambled
down into my coat pocket, where 1 happened to have
a bit of apple.

This settled the matter. Yielding to my entreaties,
my father paid the price asked, and presently I was
trudging homeward the happiest boy in all the town,
carrying my prize in the cage, which had been pur-
chased with him. Thus little Bright-eyes, as he was at
once named, became an inmate of our household,
where he gave us great delight and amusement for
many months.

It IS a very rare thing for a red squirrel to become
thoroughly tame, and we were correspondingly proud
of our pet. The secret of his perfect fearlessness
was that he belonged to a litter of baby stpiirrcls
which had been found by a farmer's son in an old
tree, and taken into che house, \Yhere they were
brought up in the constant presence of people, and
consequently lost all fear of them. At first we kept
him most of the dme in his cage, but little by little
he was allowed greater liberty, until after a while he
really spent more time running at large than shut up.

LI want with
week."
tly. "Just
) fear of my

n now, and
[ had said,
sprang fear-
y scrambled
led to have

I entreaties,
ently I was

II the town,
[ been piir-
as he was at

household,
usement for

;1 to become
Hngly proud

fearlessness
iby squirrels
n in an old
; they were

people, and
irst we kept
ttle by little
r a while he
n shut up.

BRIGHT-EYES

121

He had just come to his full growth and was in
perfect condition, his fur being as smooth and soft as
satin, his eyes as bright as diamonds, and his tail,
which curled over iiis shiny back in fine style, round,
thick, and bushy enough to satisfy anybody. A more
interesting pet 1 never had or saw. (^ne could watch
him by the hour without growing weary of his antics.
Creeping carefully along the mantelpiece, or lcai)ing
recklessly from chair to table and from table to chair
again ; tearing across the carpet at the top of his speed,
or scampering over the oilcloth with his sharp little toe-
nails making such a pattering that you might imagine
there' were half a dozen of him ; chatt-ring with de-
light when he got hold of something to his fancy, or
scolding like a fish-wife because he could not get into
the sideboard, where, as he knew right well, the apples
and nuts were kept ; as full of fun and frolic as any
kitten, and ten times more knowing — there is not room
to tell one-half of his "tricks and his manners."

Bright-eyes seemed to have no preferences among
the household, nor, indeed, to make any great distinc-
tion between members of the family and visitors. All
were his friends alike. Tiny as was his body, it held a
heart big enough to take in all the world. Sometimes
the readiness with which he enlarged his circle of ac-
quaintance was rather startling to the visitors, as when,
for instance, he woul*' come quietly into the drawing
room where my mother was receiving callers, leap sud-
denly up into a lady's lap and then spring to her
shoulder or even to the top of her bonnet. This he

122

BRIGHT-EYES

did so often, and with such success in evoking screams,
that we began to suspect him of enjoying the diversion
he created. But perhaps this was giving him credit
for a Httle more wit than he really possessed.

Dogs and cats were, of course, the terror of his life,
and he had several narrow escapes from both. Once I
almost gave him up for lost. He happened to be in
my pocket when I went to the front door to see a
friend, and becoming frightened at my friend's big
setter, Bright-eyes foolishly ran into the street instead
of into the house. The dog immediately made hot
chase after him, while I frantic ally pursued the dog, full
of fear as to the result. Fortunately, however, the
sipiirrel, before going very far, dodged inio a corner so
narrow that his burly enemy could not foll..w and I
rescued him uninjured.

When studying at my desk I used to allow him to
play freely about until he developed such a fondness
for putting his nose and fore paws into the ink bottle
and then scampering all over the place, leaving his
autograph on everything he touched, that I was com-
pelled to Itanish him from the room.

He generally had the run of the sitting room during
the evening and was put in his cage before we went to
bed. He very decidedly disliked being shut up, and
would often hide just before the time came, so that it
would be quite a job to hunt him out. As a rule he
was found, but several times he succeeded in eluding
our search, and as sure as he did, about an hour after
all were in bed and the house wrapped in silence,

,\.jiiiMKm , « iMii,'ti^^ '^^ ->'--">'*''''

ing screams,
he diversion

him credit
i.

ir of his life,
th. Once I
led to be in
or to see a

friend's big
treet instead
ly r.iade hot

the dog, full
however, the
'^ a corner so
fo'.Lw and I

allow him to
li a fondness
he ink bottle
leaving his
it I was coni-

room during
re we went to
shut up, and
ne, so that it

As a rule he
;d in eluding
an hour after
d in silence,

BRir.HT-EYES

123

Lright-eyes' little feet would l)e heard pit-pattering
over, the hall oilcioth, up tlie stairs, and about the
rooms, until somebody took him into bed, where he
would snooze peacefully until morning. It was just in
this way that my poor little pet lost his life.

There was no ditflculty in feeding Master Bright-eyes.
Apples and nuts were, I need hardly say, the joy of his
life, but a crust of bread was not despised, and many
other things were thankfully accepted. It was a charm-
ing sight to watch him sitting up primly on the table
with a bit of apple or a nut kernel in his paws, and eat-
ing it as daintily as any lady, every now and then paus-
ing to, chatter his thanks.

Once he had a very narrow escape from death. It
happened in this way. He: had climbed into a drawer
of the sideboard, and when I went after him he tried
to escape by creeping out at the l-ack. Unfortunately
there was not room even for his small body between
the top of the drawer and its casing, and in jjulling out
the drawer the breath was completely scpieezed out of
the poor little chap. He was (piite limp and api)arently
dead ; but hoping for the best, I laid him on his back
in the palm of my hand and gently stroked his breast.
Soon he began to revive, and in a few minutes de-
lighted us all by being as lively as ever.

The next time, alas ! he did not fare so well. None
of us knew just how it occurred ; but one cold morn-
ing in late autumn our darling little Bright-eyes was
found dead, beyond all hope of reviving, in the bed
which my youngest brother and myself shared. He

124

BRIGHT-EYES

had been left out of his cage when we went lO bed,
and no doubt some time during the night had pat-
tered upstairs in his usual way, (limbed on our bed,
crept in between us, where he knew right well it
would be deliciously warm, and then by some move-
ment made by one of us his little life had been crushed
out without our even knowing of the calamity.

ffsSSSSSSSKSSTSr^

went lO bed,
ght had pat-
on our bed,
right well it
• some move-
been crushed
mity.

i^^:'^'m

^Jf^

mhh-

> / WOUM) not i)ut the
|f(r faith of my readers to
the test by telling
them the following
story, did I not have
it upon no less trust-
worthy authority than
V >.- the word of a ])residing
^-^ elder of the Methodist
church of Canada, who spoke from the standpoint of
an eye-witness.

When Dr. Williams' boys were going to school, they
were, like all other boys, very fond of dogs, and held
in joint ownership a fine brown spaniel, which showed
more than ordinary intelligence. A friend offered
them a cute little setter pup ; but on asking their
father's permission to adopt it, he refused, on the
ground that one dog was enough, .md he did not wish
to have any more about.

The boys, however, instead of accepting his refusal
as final, brought the puppy home and hid it away in
the henhouse, in the hope that the parental opposition
might be overborne in some way, and by a happy
chance their hope was fulfilled.

126 TIIK ri'l'I-Y. TlIK HKN. ANI>TIIK Bin DOG

The < bill autumn air made the little puppy feel very
uncomfortable, and lie wailed so piteously and persist-
ently that at last the hoys slipped him into one of the
box ne: ts arranged for the hens to dejjosit their eggs in,
hoping that he would be warmer there, and that, at all
events, his cries would not make themselves heard.

Ihe morning after this was done they rushed into
their father's study, <rying out : " Father, come here,
quick!"

Dr. Williams promi)tly responded to the call, and
what he saw well repaid him for being thus disturbed
in the middle of sermon preparation.

'I'he boys had started to the henhouse early to see
their new treasure, but while still at a distance had
discovered a visitor before them. 'I'hey had (-autiously
remained still at a distance and watched a sight which
made them almost doubt their own eyes.

The pupi)y had been whim])ering so vigorously as to
attract the attention and awaken the sympathy of the big
dog, who had thereupon done his best to get into the
nest to comfort the little fellow. But the opening was
altogether too small to allow of this. It was then that
he formed a scheme to meet the situation that would
have done credit to an intellect of a higher order than
a dog's.

One of the hens was loitering about in a purposeless
way. The spaniel deftly caught her by the neck, and
dragged her over to the nest in which the puppy was
shivering antl complaining. He then sought to push
her into the opening. So gently was he holding her,

ICi DOG

ppy fuel very
• and pcrsist-
:o one of the
their egfjs in,
id that, at all
L's heard.
' rushed into
•, come here,

the rail, and
lus disturbed

early to see
distance had
lad cautiously
a sight which

prously as to
thy of the big
3 get into the
; oj)ening was
was then that
jn that would
er order than

a purposeless
the neck, and
he puppy was
)Ught to push
; holding her,

riiK ri'ifv, nil iiin, and iiik nu; ixv, 127

however, lliat she broke away from him. Hut he sooii
secured lur again, and despite her noisy protests,
brought her bark to tlie nest. Now l\is saga< ity re-
vealed itself in its fullest extent. Me had no hands to
shove the unwilling bird inside ; but, keeping a good
hold up-m her ne( k with his teeth, he cleverly (Towded
her in with his body, pushing finuly but gently, and
doing her not the slightest harm, until at last success
crowned his efforts.

Before this one of the boys had sudilenly thought
that if his father could only see this dever performance
by the big dog his heart would surely be softened
toward the little stranger, and so they liad both run at
top speeil for their father, bringing him to the spot in
time to see the big dog's last and successful attempt.

Now was not that a most remarkable chain of reason-
ing for a dog? The puppy was cold. He woidd
gladly have ciddled it uj) to his own warm breast had
he been able, but he could nu'. get in to it, and it had
not sense enough to come out to him. It was in the
hen's nest. If the hen were there she woidd cover it
with her wings, and i)rotect it from the cold. 'I'hen it
was only necessary to put the hen into the nest, and
the puppy would be comforted ; a conclusion no sooner
arrived at than carried into e.xecution.

'Ihe hen scarcely seemed disposed to meet the big
do"'s expectations, but that did not matter, as the boys
could restrain their enthusiasm no longer and cpiickly
sent her scpiawking away in order to comfort the puppy
themselves and pet and praise the dog who seemed

\2H THE lUI'I'V, THE URN, ANO THE nKi DOO

l-lcasfil at the turn affairs liad taken ami watrhed the
piijipy's fortunes with benevolent eyes and wa^ninj,' tail.
It is liardly neeessary to add that after so strange and
toiK liinj; a manifestation of interest on the part of the
dog, the opposition on tiie i)art of tlie father was witii-
drawn, and the little puppy admitted into the family
ircle.

ik; doo

1 w;iti bed the
I wiigging tail.
() stranj^c and
le part of tlic
liir was willi-
l(j tlic family

^ ' »J«R-.-

'/ >:

v. were acciistomud

to s]ieiul the hot

ni i (1 s II 111 111 c r

iiioMtlis at liri-

taniiia, a pretty

'.iltle village near

the foot of big Lake

Deschenes. where we

were 111 lli.d to sleep at night

by the soft splashing of the

water and the never-( easing

roar of the rapids, whose sound

,■ : was borne to us by the cool breezes

off the broad bosom of the lake.

Twice every day there passed before our cottage a
long procession of cows, headed by one wearing a big
bronze bell at her neck, which insured that she should
"have music wherever she goes," althoutrh of a some-
what monotonous character. The cows were going to

I 129

MOOLEY TO THE RESCUE

or returning from the island, as it was called, a cractof
land at the foot of the rapids, which, owing to the
marshy- nature of the soil, afforded abundant and suc-
culent pasturage even in days of drought, when the
uplands were burned brown.

These cows needed no herdsmnn. When milkmg
time came they never failed to report themselves, and
it was very interesting to see them, about five o'clock
in the afternoon, actuated by the common purpose of
being relieved of their burden of milk, gather together
from the different parts of the island, and then move
on to the village, where each went to her own stable
In early summer, when the descent of the "north
waters " causes the river Ottawa to rise high above its
ordinary level, Lake Deschenes, which is only an
expansion of the river, rises also, and there is then a
rushing sfeam between the island and the mamland,
which has to be crossed by the cows. They do not
mind it in the least, however, swimming to and fro as
if they were to the "manner born."

One spring, just when the water was at its height
the Whitton cow one day found herself in possession of
the dearest little calf in the world, a regular beauty, as
she proudly flattered herself; and not feehng very
strong that afternoon, she decided to stay over night
on the island, instead of going back with the others.

But when the time for the general movement came,
her brown-and-white baby, instead of staying by her
side like a dutiful son, attached himself to the Murphy
cow and joined the homeward procession. His mother,

ai irt in '■ Tj'.M

CUE

IS called, a iract of
ich, owing to the
abundant and siic-
Iroiight, when the

n. When milking
jrt themselves, and

about five o'clock
:ommon purpose of
ilk, gather together
nd, and then move

to her own stable.
;ent of the "north
i rise high above its

which is only an
ind there is then a
I and the mainland,
:ows. They do not
mniing to and fro as

r was at its height,
rself in possession oi
a regular beauty, as
id not feeling very
d to stay over night
;k with the others.
:ral movement came,
id of staying by her
mself to the Murphy
ession. His mother.

MOOLEY TO THE RESCUE

131

too weak to follow, entreated him to return to her, but
the willful little chap persisted in pioceeding and pres-
ently the procession came to the rushing stream, into
which the old cows plunged without liesitation.

The calf, taking it for granted that what was good for
his elders was good likewise for him, plunged in also.
But alas ! he soon discovered his error, and had reason
to repent of his rashness. Tlie cold water chilled him
to the heart, and his weak little legs could do nothing
against the turbulent torrent He was in imminent
peril of a watery grave, and in his extremity he bleated
pitifully for help.

He did not cry in vain. The Murphy cow, to
whom he had attached himself, had by this time got
half-way across, but on hearing his piteous wail she
turned about to see what was the matter. With won-
derful sagacity she took in the situation at a glance.
She did not waste time in scolding the calf for his folly,
but plowing her way through the water to him, put
her broad nose underneath his stomach, and lifting him
up upon it, bore him safely back to his starting point,
where, by shoving him ashore, she intimated as jdainly
as possible that he should get back to his mother as
quickly as his trembling legs would carry him.

The mother's anxious call was still coming from the
copse where she lay unable to look after her errant
baby, and responding to it with a comical cry, half
whimper, half shout of rejoicing, the little crentuiv
shambled back a wetter and a wiser calf, to tell his
troubled parent all about his thrilling experience.

132

MOOLEY TO THE RF5CUE

Now it seems to me that the Murphy cow surely
deserved some recognition at the hands of the Royal
Humane Society, and if a medal should appear inap-
propriate, perhaps a bell of more than ordinary sonor-
ousness and sweetness, and suitably engraved, would
be a fitting testimonial.

OIL

cow surely
f the Royal
ijjpear inap-
inary sonor-
ived, would

>^^

O one was more fully aware of
Arthur lironson's shy, sensitive
nature than he was himself; cer-
tainly no one deplored it more
deeply than he did. Indeed,
there were times when he resented
/ it, as though it was something apart
from himself, a troublesome trait with
which he ought not, in common fairness, to
have been endowed. Hardly a day passed that he did
not lament with more or less bitterness, according to
the importance of the incident, the quick mounting of
the blood to his cheek at sotne personal remark made
by one of his companions in a jesting or teasing way, or
the sudden silence that fell upon his lips just when he
ought to have been ready with a bright retort.

He could not help feeling, moreover, that his re-
served, taciturn ways seriously interfered with his at-
taining that popularity among his playmates for which
his heart secretly hungered. How he envied Charlie
Forrest, of the blonde curls and blue eyes, whose frank
manner and merry laugh made everybody his friend.

134 IN THE FOOTSTEPS Ol" rHILIP

Not that he was looked upon by the boys of \rch-
field with any feeling of aversion or contempt. He
had long ago shown himself as .lucky as any of them
in the face of danger and as apt as the majority at the.r
different games. Hut he knew very well that, while
welcome enough as a companion in sport, he was never
admitted into the inner circle of their friendship ; and
this fact was a sore grief to him, especially as he could
not see his way to any improvement of the situation.

This same shy self-consciousness had been a source
of difficulty and concern to him in another way. Care-
fully trained at home to be always steadfast for the
right, and naturally preferring those things that were
pure and peaceable and of good report to their oppo-
sites, however enticing they might seem, he neverthe-
less had little knowledge of vital religion until, when he
was well on in his teens, there came to Archf.eld an
evangelist of note, whose burning words set Arthur s
heart on fire and stirred his soul to its very depths.
He seemed to wake up from a sleep of selfish indiffer-
ence and to realize as never before his responsibilities.
His conscience cried out against him and gave him no
peace, calling upon him to obey the admonition, " Go,
work in my vineyard." ,,, . •.,

But how was he to work? What could he do with
his faltering tongue, his humiliating shyness? " 1 can-
not take any part in Christian work," he would say to
himself in one of the many dialogues between duty and
disinclination that were continually taking place. "I
have no fitness for it whatever. If 1 were to try to

',:?f'''':T^" -^j^vg.'-'-.

^s of \rch-
i;nn)t. He
ny of them
rity at their

that, while
e was never
dship ; and
as he could
situation.
:en a source
way. Care-
Ifast for the
;s that were

their oppo-
le neverthe-
itil, when he
Archfield an
set Arthur's
very depths.
Ifish indiffer-
sponsibilities.
gave him no
nition, "Go,

d he do with
ss? "I can-
would say to
keen duty and
g place. " I
vere to try to

IN THE FOOTSTEI'S OF PHILIP

135

say something at the social mceiinj, or to talk religion
with one of the boys, 1 simply couldn't do it. My
tongue would stick in my mouth and I'd only just
make a fool of myself, I'm sure. Now there's Charlie
Forrest — it wouldn' t be any trouble to him to take part
in the meeting, or even to talk to any of us about re
ligion. He doesn't know what it means to be nervous
asldo."

Whether Arthur was wholly correct in his estimate of
Charlie or not, was; of no particular consequence ; since,
however he might try to argue with himself, it did not
in the slightest degree bear lipon the question as to
what he ought to do. The evangelist had laid great
stress upon the exceeding importance of all those who
had been benefited by the special services entering
without delay into active work in connection with the
church which they attended. The Master was always
in need of helpers, and none who wished to please
him should withhold their aid.

In order to put to good use the energies and talents
of the young people who had joined the Archfield
Church as a result of the evangelist's labors, a young
people's society had been established, in which the
pastor took a very keen interest. At first Arthur had
held aloof, although pressed to join. He felt reluctant
to commit himself even to that extent. Every one
who joined the society was, he knew, expected to do
something toward its spiritual prosperity, and he could
not make up his mind to undertake anything of the
kind.

IN Till-; FOOTSTIcrs Ol' rillLII'

As a natural consequence, ne fell into a very •.ni-<^r-
abk state of mind. He hardly knew which of the two
he envied the most : Andrew Allan, the secretary of
the society, whose whole heart seemed full of love for
religious work, who looked as though he was the hap-
piest boy in Archficld, and found more delight in the
meetings of the church than in a baseball match ; or
Charlie Forrest, to whom religion seemed a subject oi
no concern whatever, and who laughed and joked in
his merry way at the very idea of his ever taking part
in Christian work.

Certainly, either the enthusiasm of the one or the gay
carelessness of the other seemed infmitelv preferable
to his morbid moping, which led nowhere but to deeper
despondency.

Matters were in this state when, one Stmday even-
ing, Arthur's pastor preached a sermon that the boy
felt had a special meaning for himself. The text was
taken frora the first chapter of John's C.ospel and con-
tained only three words, viz., "Philip findeth Na-
thanael." Upon the incident to which they referred,
the preacher based a very earnest and moving address
on ihe importance and influence of personal work.
The line of argument was that the very best way in
which Christ's followers could prove their gratitrde for
the great salvation they had obtained through him and
their appreciation of its blessedness, was to make it
known to others and to do all they could to "find"
their friends, as Philii, had found Nathanael. in order
to tell him of his wonderful discovery.

IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF PHILIP

«37

very •.iii''*''"-
li of the two
secretary of

I of love for
,-as the hap-
:hght in the

II match ; or
a subject oi

nd joked in
■ taking part

ne or the gay
ly preferable
Jilt io deeper

Minday even-
that the boy
The text was
ipel and con-
fmdeth Na-
:hcy referred,
jving address
irsonal work.
r best way in
r gratiti'de for
oiigh him and
IS to make it
Id to "find"
nacl. in order

Arthur saw the point very clearly and made no at-
tempt to disguise from himself how directly the sermon
applied.

" I know I ought at least to try," he said to himself,
as he walked home alone from the church, pondering
deeply over what he had heard. " ' 1' ve never yet done
anything. But," he went on, with a despairing shake
of the head, "what's the use ? I'd only make a fool
of myself, and they'd be sure to laugh at me."

It was not really lack of gratitude to (lod, he argued,
that kept him back ; it was lack of confidence in him-
self. He had too much modesty. Now if lie were
only possessed of a little more conceit he could, witli-
out difficulty, pluck up sufficient courage to do the
duty that he felt to be laid upon him.

But these arguments gave him no comfort. ''!.'»
pressure upon his heart grew heavier, and not ligl ter ;
until at last it seemed as though he could bear it no
longer, and on his knees one morning he pledged
himself to seize the first opportunity of sjjeaking a
word for the Master. No sooner had he done this
than the burden on his mind grew wonderfully lighter,
and not only so. but he felt a degree of courage that
he had never known before. If this new state of feel-
ings continued the task would not be difficult after all.

Now, was it a mere accident, or was it in accordance
with the decree of Providence, that the first one to
cross Arthur's path when he went forth with this new-
born purpose inspiring him, was Charlie Forrest?
As bright and fresh as the morning itself, he came up

'38

IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF PHILIP

'ii

' I'

to Arthur and gave liim a hearty daj) on the oack,
saying; "Hello, Arty! what's the good word this
morning?"

Arthur gave a sudden start and l.hislied up to the
roots of his hair. Charlie Forrest was certainly the
very last one of his companions that he wante(1 to meet
just then, for liow could he keep his pledge by speak-
ing to him ? So confused was lie that he could not for
a moment make any reply, and Charlie asked in some
surprise :

"Anything the matter this morning, Arty?"

With an effort Arthur managed to stammer :
I. N— no, there's nothing the matter; hut you gave
me a sort of a start coming up so suddenly when I was
thinking about something."

"A i)enny for your thoughts," cried Charlie gayly,
httle imagining what those thoughts were.

Here now was Arthur's opportunity, and summoning
up all his courage he determined to embrace it. In a
hesitating way he asked :

"Did your hear Mr. Carson's sermon last Sunday

night?"

"Yes," rephed Charlie, v.ith an inquiring glance at
his companion. " It was a good one, wasn't it ? "

Arthur grew bolder at this encouraging answer.

" I thought it hit me pretty hard," he said, looking
into the other's face.

" How's that?" queried Charlie, with interest.

With a freedom of utterance that was a surprise to
both himself and his listener, Arthur then proceeded

I the Dack,
word this

1 up to the
;rtainly the
ted lo meet
e by speak -
ould not for
;ed in some

stammer :
it you gave
when I was

liarhe gayly,

summoning
ce it. In a

last Sunday

ng glance at
n't it?"
inswer.
iaid, looking

nterest.

a surprise to

n proceeded

IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF rHILIP

139

to tell what had been passing through his mind, and
the resolution which had l)een the result of it all.
While he spoke the expression of Charlie's counte-
nance changed from that of mere friendly curiosity to a
serious attention that was rare in iiis iiandsome face.
Beyond a doubt Arthur's words were making a deep
impression upon ,m, and when the latter ceased speak-
ing, he laid h hand in an affectionate way upon his
shoulder, saying in a gentle tone :

"And so I am to be your Nathanael, .Arthur? I
don't know my Hible as well as I ought, and when I go
home I'll look up that text and read the whole story
for myself, and then we'll have another talk about it."
It was a great surprise to Charlie to have (piiet. re-
served Arthur speak to him on such a subject as relig-
ion, and it was even more of a surprise to Arthur to
find his hesitating overtures met in so kindly and se-
rious a manner. He had looked for careless jesting
and perhaps ridicule ; and instead he had received an
attentive hearing and the promise that what he had
said would be thought over and talked about again.

"What a ninny I was to be so frightened about
speaking to my friends ! " solilocpiized Arthur, after the
two boys had parted. "Why, there ! I've just been
doing it to the one I thought hardest of all to say any-
thing to, and just see how nice he was al)out it ! "

The few words spoken in fear and trembling proved
a falling of seed into good ground. Underneath his
gay indifference Charlie had been hiding very different
feelings. Out of curiosi' . he had attended one of the

IN THK lOOTSTEPS OF PHILIP

evangelist's meetings, and what he heard there had
been so disturbing that he would not go again.

He could not however, simply by staying away, (piict
the voice tiiat had been aroused within him, and al-
though perhaps no one would ever have guessed it, his
days were full of troubled thoughts which he strove to
banish by more energetic merry-making. He had, in-
deed, just reached that point when a worti fitly spoken
miglit prove the turning point of his life ; and it was a
little strange and yet the fact, that in all Archfield
there was no one from whom that word could have
come with more force than from .\rthur I'.ronson.

Deep in his heart Charlie felt a sincere respect for
the reserved, retiring boy who, nevertheless, was so
courageous or skillful when courage or skill weie re-
quired. He felt full confidence in .Arthur's profession
of religion, and was far readier to listen to him than
even to Mr. Carson, although the minister was anything
but a bugbear to the young jjcople of the jilace.

Charlie and Arthur had otlier talks upon the subject,
as the result of which the former, before long, followed
Arthur's example in bei;oming a member of the young
people's society and of the church. He tlirew all his in-
fluence upon its side, soon earning for himself Mr.
Carson's praise for being his best recruiting sergeant.

And thus Arthur's first attempt to follow in the foot-
steps of Philip led to blessed conseciuences far outreach-
ing his expectations, and in after years he found cheer
and fresh inspiration by looking back to that morning
when he first bursl the bonds of silence.

-:^rr-

1 there had
i{ain.

away, (luict
nni, and al-
essed it, his
he strove to
He had, in-
fitly spoken
and it was a
ill Archfield
could have
onson.

,' respect for
less, was so
kill were re-
's profession
to him than
was anything
])larc.

I the subject,
)ng, followed
of the young
cw all his in-
himself Mr.
y sergeant.
V in the foot-
far outrcach-
; found cheer
that morning

OK HIM ME I, MAN ha-l fallen
into a very dcspondt-nt and un-
"I "^ hajipy state of niiiul, at which

fact, however, no one acipiainted with
the ( ircumstances of his life would be
likely to feel any surprise. The world
had not gone well with Joe. The fates
had been unkind to him, as the saying is.
As far back as his memory went, there was little or
nothing of an encouraging nature to retail. To use
one of his own phrases, it might with truth be said that
he had not been given a " fair show " from the start.

His mother, of whom he had faint but very lond
memories, died when he was still a little urchin in short
frocks and his father, after a decent interval of waiting,
had married again. The second Mrs. Himmelman was
a stout, red-faced, ipiick-tempered, bustling woman,
not unkind at heart, but intensely occupied with her
own children and the affairs of the household, and find-
ing no time and little patience for her stejjson, whose

141

142

HOI.n ON, HAROLD

slow ways and slower speech were a constant source of
irritation to her.

i'oor Joe ought to have had a champion in his father,
but the fact was that Mrs. Iliinmelman number two had
him entirely under her intluence, and lie never ven-
tured the slij^litest protest, even when the boy was
obviously beinj? treated with undeserved severity.

When Joe grew old enough to wield an axe and
carry a buc ket, he betame the hewer of wood and
drawer of water for the house, and his energetic step-
mother allowed him scant margin for play or any other
form of recreation. His lot, from a boy's point of
view, was bitter indjed, and its effect upon his mind
was to make him seem duller and slower every year that
passed.

Not even at school had he deliverance from the
taunts and flaunts which made him miserable at home,
for there he proved himself a very unsatisfactory pupil,
and the teacher, knowing it was a perfectly safe prr>-
ceeding in Joe's case, for he had no one to take his
part, amused himself and the scholars by making the
poor boy the butt of his wit, which was none the less
aggravating because of its manifest poverty.

It seemed that only a single ray of sunshine bright-
ened his life, and that came from one of the smallest
boys in the school, by name, Harold McKean, the son
of the most important and influential merchant in the
village. This Harold had a tender heart, and although
Joe was four years his senior, and as many inches taller
and many pounds heavier, his sympathy for the poor

nt Hourcc of

n his father,
l»cr two had
never ven-
lie boy was
verity.

an axe and
r wood and
L-rgetic step-
n any other
/'s point of
on his mind
ery year that

■e from the
)le at home,
iictory pupil,
tly safe pr'<-
i; to take his
making the
lone the less

•ihine bright-

the smallest

lean, the son

chant in the

and although

inches taller

for the poor

^mmrmm'mr^

HOT.n ON, HAKOin

143

fellow's hanl lot made him desirous of alleviating it in
some way, and he began to be lu'lpfiil by showing a
friendliness toward him that |oe, as soon as he found it
was genuine and loiieealed no cruel trick, lieartily
apjireciated. The other boys were (juick to see tiie
comical side of such a companions!-.ii), wliicii indeed
reseinliled thai iielween a Newioundland dog and a fox
terrier.

They were in many ways well adapted to supplement
each other's defn iencies. What Harold hu ked in si/.e
and strength he made up in (piickness of wits and agility
of body, while Joe's musi les were always ready to
acc9mplish what was beyond the other's powers. Not
only so, but Harold, without in the least imagining it
exerted a moral influence over Joe that was distinctly
beneficial. His marked preference for the hitherto de-
spised society of the big lad awoke tiie hitter's latent self-
respect. He began to entertain a somewhat im])roved
opinio.'i of himself, which is always a good thing to
have.

The friendship had been of a year's standing when it
came about that Joe should have a chance of showing
how dear his comjjanion was to him, in a way that
neither of them had ever expected. The village where
they lived stretched its single street beside the Mahone
River, and the advent of winter was always eagerly
anticipated by the boys, because a fortnight's skating
could generally be enjoyed before the snow came to
cover up the river's icy breastplate.

The winter in which the event about to be described

144

HOLD ON, HAROLD

took place, began in just the right way to delight the
boys' hearts, namely, with a hard frost that in twenty-four
hours froze the river over firmly from shore to sho:*^.
Now this frost came so suddenly and with such
unlooked for vigor as to catch even so experienced a
navigator as Captain T,Lvi Corkimi napping, so to
speak. His schooner, the taut and trim ' ' Sea Slipper,
was lying at Mr. McKean's wharf, getting in her last
load of pickled fish, a- tl he had counted on a few days
more of oi)en water, ivhen saucy Jack Frost had the
impertinence to offer a veto upon his plans.

Happily, however, the worthy skipper was not easily
daunted, and before the ice had time to get too thick,
he hurriedly completed preparations for the voyage, and
then set all his crew and himself to work cutting a
canal through which the schooner might be worked out
into the open water beyond. This "icing out," as it
is called, proved successful. The ' ' Sea Slipper' ' before
nightfall shook herself free from her crystal fetters and
bowled away merrily to her destination, while the canal
was left to freeze up again as fast as it might, there
being no further use for it.

By morning the frost king had done much to repair
the damage wrought in his handiwork. The opening
was completely frozen over, and only the roughness of
its surface distinguished it from the rest of the icr.. At
the noon recess the schoolboys made for the rivorin a
body, and were soon skating or sliding gleefully over its
glistening surface. Harold had a fine pair of spring
skates which he kuew how to use very well, but Joe had

HOLD OX, HAROLD

145

^•ay to delight the
hat in twenty-four
m shore to sho:*;.

and with such
so experienced a

napping, so to
in " Sea Slipper,"
netting in her last
ited on a few days
ick Frost had the
plans,
per was not easily

to get too thick,
or the voyage, and
to work cutting a
ght be worked out
" icing out," as it
ea Slipper" before
crystal fetters and
on, while the canal

as it might, there

ne much to repair
jrk. The opening
ily the roughness of
rest of the icr^. At
e for the ri\vir in a
ng gleefully over its
fine pair of spring
y well, but Joe had

to content himself with sliding, for which his heavy hob-
nailed boots were not especially adapted.

At first the boys carefully avoided the rough ice
where the passage had been made for the schooner, but
as soon as their spirits rose they became less cautious, and
several of them ventured out upon it without breaking
in, although it cracked ominously under their feet.
Among those who essayed this foolish feat was the bully
of the school. Hen Wade by name, and it happened
that just as he got safely back Harold Mt;Kean came up.

"There, Harry," called Ben exuhingly, "try that, if
you dare ! ' '

Huijld's eyes flashed and his face flushed at this
challenge, for there was something in Wade's tone
which implied that in his opinion there was little chance
of its acceptance.

"Of course I dare," he retorted promptly, "and
I'll do more than you did ; I'll go clear across."

So saying he drew ofl" a few yards and then made a
dart for the dangerous spot, knowing well that the
greater his speed the better his chance of getting safely
over. At this moment Joe, who had been some dis-
tance behind, came lumbering up, and seeing what his
friend was about to attempt called out in tones of
alarmed entreaty :

"Come back Harold, come back ! That ice won't
be^r you."

But he was too late to stop the rash boy, who
redoubled his efforts as he heard the ice crack at every
stroke, and who had almost gained the solid ice beyond

146

HOLD ON, HAROLD

when there was a crash, a cry of terror, and in a
moment he had vanished from sight through a gaping
chasm in which the black water swirled and surged.

Appalled at the accident, his playmates gathered as
close as they dared to the edge of the new ice, and
bent forward with eager, anxious eyes, gazing at the
break where their companion had disappeared. Not
one of them ventured to make any attempt at helping
the imperilled boy, whose head now appeared in the
midst of the slippery fragments.

But Joe, as he saw that his friend had succeeded in
grasping the edge of a cake, thus keeping himself
above water, shouted at the top of his voice, "Hold
on, Harold! I'm coming to you!" and sprang out
upon the ice that bent and cracked beneath his weight.
At the sound of his voice Harold turned toward him,
and his face lit up with hope.

"Hold on tight, Harold !" Joe shouted again ; and
just at that moment the treacherous ice gave way under
his feet, and down he went, amidst cries of consterna-
tion from the other boys.

But he did not disappear. Throwing out his arms to
their full extent, he checked his descent by grasping
the ice on either side, and then without attempting to
get upon it again he forced his way through it to
Harold. By a tremendous effort he succeeded in get-
ting a good grip upon a large ice cake and thrusting his
foot out toward Harold until the latter was able to seize
it with both hands, he cried : "Now, hold on, Harold,
and you'll be all right."

ror, and in a
aiigh a gaping
id surged,
s gathered as
new ice, and
gazing at the
peared. Not
npt at helping
peared in the

succeeded in
;eping himself
voice, "Hold
nd sprang out
ith his weight.
;d toward him,

ed again ; and
jave way under
s of consterna-

out his arms to
;nt by grasping
attempting to
through it to
xeeded in get-
id thrusting his
(CLS able to seize
jld on, Harold,

HOLD ON, HAROLD

147

The terrified boy did hold on with the energy of one
who knew life was at stake, and the ice < akc proving
unetpial to the support of the double weij^lu was about
to sink beneath the water, when iiapiiily tliere appeared
on the scene, just in the nick of time, two men bearing
planks which they thrust out over the broken ice, so
that Joe, letting go of the cake, was able to grasp one
of them and be drawn, together with his companion,
back to safety.

Assistance had come not a moment too soon, for poor
little Harold was unconscious when lifted out of the
chilling water, and Joe himself could hardly stand
upon his feet. But they were both hurried away to
warm blankets and reviving cordials, and ere long had
entirely recovered from their icy bath.

(Ireat, of course, was the gratitude of Harold and
his parents for Joe's gallant rescue, and loud were the
praises of the people when they learned of the exploit.
Not one of them had ever imagined Joe Himmelman
capable of such heroism, and their plaudits were all the
more hearty on that account.

It was wonderful, the difference this affair made in
Joe's life. Not only did it cement more strongly the
friendship between himself and Harold, not only did it
win for him an influential benefactor in Mr. McKean,
who took no small pains to improve his circumstances,
not only did it secure him the respect of those who had
formerly laughed at him, but it wrought a marked
revolution in the boy's own mind. He no longer de-
spised himself. He no longer felt as if life was not worth

148

HOLD ON, HAROLD

living. He had proven himself good for something,
and what he had done once he could do again. This
was the keynote to which his life thereafter was set.
The older he grew the more earnestly he strove to do
what he saw to be his duty. Figuratively speaking,
those words of hope and cheer, "Hold on, Harold !"
came often from his lips, and proved of vital service to
those who were exposed to sore temptation and who
by his sympathy and aid were brought back to a firm
footing in the path of righteousness.

jr sonething,
again. This
:aftcr was set.
strove to do
rely speaking,
on, Harold!"
'ital service to
ition and who
back to a firm

€irf

(TV

BOYS had finished the preparation
of their lessons for the morrow,
and with lightened hearts had
drawn their chairs up to the fire for a little chat before
going to bed. So interesting did they find the subject
of their talk that their voices rose until they attracted
the attention of their father reading in his arm-chair
at the other end of the room, and he dropped his
paper to listen. He could not help a smile of mingled
amusement and sympathy when he caught the drift of
their discussion.

The popular craze for pugilistic encounter had reached
its height, and the sporting columns of the newspapers
overflowed with detailed accounts of thinly disguised
prize fights. As a matter of course, the little world of
the schoolboys emulated the bigger world of the busi-
ness men in its interest in these brutalizing contests of
the modern gladiators, and even went farther, for it in-

149

150

THE FALSE TEST ANH THE TRUE

dulged in realistic imitations of the struggles for su-
premacy between the "featherweights," "middle-
weights," and "heavyweights" respectively.

At Aylmer Academy, which the boys rttended, mat-
ters had gone pretty far in this direction without the
masters becoming aware of it. Several fiercely fought
battles had taken jjlace, when one day Bill Hennett, a
tall, sinewy, scrawny lad, with a sullen, truculent visage,
who was the recognized bully of the school, challenged
Arthur Howard, who was the recognized dux, to fight
him for the championship.

Arthur politely but firmly refused, even though Bill
sought to force an issue by giving him what the boys
call the "cowardly blow," and his refusal had set his
companions' tongues a-wagging at a wonderful rate.

Jack and Walter Per}ey we.e doing their share of the
discussion as they sat by the fire, and seemed quite
agreed as to the humiliation of Arthur- Howard' :
position.

" I can't make him out," said Jack earnestly, as
though reluctant to believe the worst of the recalcitrant,
"I never thought him a bit of a coward, and yet how
could he take the cowardly blow from that hateful Bill
Bennett and not fight him ? ' '

"That's so," assented Walter, who also admired
Arthur and disliked Bennett. "Now if Bill hadn't
hit him it mightn't matter so much, but after that he's
bound to fight him."

"Who's bound to fight, boys?" inquired Mr. Per-
ley, coming over from his end of the room and looking

iggles for su-
," " middle-
cly.

ttcnded, mat-
1 without the
ierccly fought
ill Bennett, a
uulent visage,
ol, challenged
1 liiix, to fight

■n though Bill
,vhat the boys
al had set his
ierful rate.
:ir share of the
seemed quite
hur" Howard''

c earnestly, as
ne recalcitrant.
I, and yet how
lat hateful Bill

I also admired
if Bill hadn't
after that he's

uired Mr. Per-
om and looking

THE FALSE TEST AND THE TRUE

151

down into the earnest faces, which flushed before hia
gaze and showed distinct signs of perturbation. " Tell
me all about it," he continued, noticing their confu-
sion ; "I'm feeling cjuite curious."

Seeing no way out of the dilemma, the boys toki the
whole story, and when they had finished, Mr. IVrley
said in a meaning tone :

"And so you think Arthur must be a coward be-
cause he won't fight Bill Bennett just to settle the
point as to which is the biggest bruiser of the two.
Let me tell you a story that perhaps will lead you to
take another view of Arthur Howard's conduct than
you'have just committed yourselves to."

The boys pricked up their ears and drew their chairs
closer to the one in which Mr. Perley had seated him-
self

"You have often heard me speak of your great-
grandfather," he began, "and you remember that he
was in the British Navy. At the age of eighteen he
became sub-lieutenant in the fine frigate ' Cryphon,'
then forming part of the squadron guarding the West
Indies from the fleets of Napoleon. The misnamed
' code of honor ' held sway in those days and duels
were of frequent occurrence. Captain Pinkcm, of the
'Gryphon,' had been 'out' half a dozen times him-
self, and his ofiicers were quick to resent any fancied
insult or respond to any challenge.

" Now your great-grandfather had been brought up
with a keen horror of dueling, his mother having thus
lost her only brother under peculiarly sorrowful circnm-

152

THE F.\IJ!E TEST AND THE TRUE

Stances, and lie had pledged his word to her never to
take [)art as princijjal or second in an affair of the kind.

"Soon after he joined the ship his resohition was
put to the severest of tests. Among his brother officers
was one named Hiilstrode, whom he instinctively dis-
liked from the start and who evidently reciprocated the
feeling.

"This Bulstrode was a coarse creature of low, vicious
propensities, and it chanced that when the 'dryphon '
iay at Kingston, and a number of her officers were on
shore, your great-grandfather came across IJiilstrode in
a back street trying to force his unwelcome attentions
ui)on a pretty (piadroon, who was vainly endeavoring to
get away from him. Your great-grandfather promptly
went to her rescue and enabled her to escape, where-
upon liulstrode, who was partly intoxicated, staggered
off in a frenzy of rage, vowing that the interfercr in
his amusements would be made to answer for his pre-
sumption.

"That very evening a formal challenge was handed
your great grandfiither, with the request that he would
choose the weapons and appoint the time and place of
meeting.

"To the profound astonishment of his friends, he
quietly refused to do either the one or the other, and
all their entreaties and warnings failed to move him
frcm his stand. He stated his reasons once for all, and
then would have nothing further to say.

"The next morning he found himself, as he had ex-
pected, tab ed by every one on board. Even t"he

RUE

) her never to
ir of the kind,
rcsohition was
)rothcr officers
;tinctively dis-
ci prorated the

of low, vicious
le ' (Iryphon '
Ificers were on
s Biilstrode in
mie attentions
;ndeavoring to
.ther promptly
.'scape, where-
ted, staggered
: interferer in
er for his pre-

;e was handed
that he would
'i and place of

his friends, he

the other, and

to move him

rice for all, and

as he had ex-
d. Even the

THE FALSE TEST AND THE TRUE

153

common sailors seemed hardly able to conceal their
wonder and contemjit, while Hiilstrode strutteil before
him for all the world like a vi( torious game-cock, the
very personification of vulgar triumph.

"It was a harrowing situation for a high-spirited,
sensitive man such as your great-grandfather was, and
he could not have borne it long. Happily, however,
relief soon came, and in a most unexpected way. The
' Oryphon ' had orders to scour the sea between Jamaica
and Cuba in search of French privateers. After cruis-
ing about for some time, she i)Ut into Santiago de Cuba
to refill the water-butts and get some supplies and fruit.
This port fairly swarmed with sharks of the most vora-
cious kind, and the sailors belonging to tlK ships at
anchor were wont to amuse themselves catching the
monsters with shark-hooks and torturing them to death.

" While the '(Jryphon' lay at her mooring, one of
her gunners thought he would have some fun with a
shark, so baiting a hook he threw it overboard. In an
instant he had a big brute fast and walloping about
madly in the water. In the excitement which followed,
he managed somehow to tumble headlong overboard.
As is often the case with seafaring men, he could not
swim a stroke. He floundered frantically in the water
while the sharks gathered menacingly about, and the
bulwarks were lined with his shipmates shouting all
sorts of directions, and flinging futile ropes and life
buoys that the poor fellow was too bewildered to grasp.

'•Bulstrode was the officer on watch, and although
a fine swimmer he made no effort to save the gunner

154

THE FAI.sk test AND THE TRUE

beyond roarinp; orders that were mere waste 1 l)reatli.
I'here seemed every i)rol>al)ility of the poor fellow
being drowned or seized by a shark before a boat could
reach him, when your great-grandfather, who was in
the gunroom reading, hearing the conunotion, rushed
up on deck. At a single glance he took in the situa-
tion. Ncu a moment did he pause to throw off his
coat or boots. Without a word he leaped right into
the midst of the merciless maneaters. A few cpiick
strokes brought him to the struggling man, alicuJy lialf
drowned. Thrusting one of the ropes into his hands,
he called out to those on the ship to haul him up, and
the gunner was ([uickly dragged out of danger.

" Not until then did your great-grandfather give any
thought to his own peril. He found himself surrounded
by no less than si.\ huge sharks, ready to tear him
limb from limb. Shouting and splashing with all his
might he made for the side of the ship, where eager
hands were outstretched to help him. and just as the
biggest of the horrid creatures charged upon him, he
was lifted out of the water, safe from the monster's
teeth.

" So deep was the impression made by the heroic
rescue, that your great-grandfather found the tide of
feeling completely turned. From Captain Pinkem down,
every officer on board, even the belligerent Bulstrode,
shook hands with him heartily, and having thus gloii-
ously vindicated his courage, his stand in regard to
dueling was accepted, and he was never troubled upon
that point again.

PR UK

THE rAI.SK TEST AND THE TRUE

155

rtiistcl breath.
le poor iVIlow
re a boat could
r, wlio was in
motion, rushed
k in the sitdu-
I til row off his
iped riglit into
A few cjuick
m, uticuvly iiaii
into his hands,
d him 111), and
langer.

father give any
self surrounded
ly to tear him
ng with all his
p, where eager
ind just as the
, upon him, he
the monster's

; by the heroic
nd the tide of
1 rinkem down,
rent Bulstrode,
ving thus gloii-
id in regard to
troubled upon

"And now, boys," concluded Mr. I'erley, "what
do you think of my story? lias it any bearing upon
what you were discussing? "

The boys looked into the fire for a moment, and
then the younger and more inpetuous replied :

"Of course it has, father, and I'm going to stand
by Arthur. I don't care what the other boys do."

" And so am 1," chimed in Jack. " He's liie best
fellow in the school, anyway."

" Well said, my boys," responded Mr. I'erley. " Be
faithful to your friends in spite of public opinion. Some
day he'll show you he's no coward, but ?. Loy of strong
principle, ready to suffer for the right."

A week later, when Mr. Perley came home from the
office the boys greeted him with shouts of :

"Right you were, father! Arthur's no coward, I
tell you ! You should have seen the way he scjuelched
Bill Bennett."

With great enthusiasm they proceeded to tell their
.story. It seemed that after school Bennett had been
bullying one of the small boys who would not give him
a knife he coveted, when Arthur Howard came up and
ordered him to stop it. Sneering out that mealy-
mouthed cowards had better mind their own business if
they didn't want a licking, Bill was about to continue
his abuse of the youngster, when Arthur grasped him
and dragged him away from his wailing vii:tim.

With an oath Bennett turned upon Arthur, but
before the furious blow he attempted could fall, the

156

THE FALSK TEST AND THE TRUE

latter, wl\ii was llu; licsl t.u klcr in tin.- football team,
caught liiiii anmiul tlio wai>t and tlimj; liiin to the
ground so lieavily that he lay there for the best part of
a minnte, stunned and breathless.

When he did rii over his wits, all disposition to fight
had left him, and growling something about not fighting
fair, he slunk off, Hie i)i( ture of «leje( tion and defeat.

".Ml. my boys," (omnunted Mr. Perley, when he
had heard the whole story, "now you see the differ-
ence between the false and the true test of courage.
I.et .Arthur Howard's way be your way. and there's no
fear but that you will ( ommand the respect of all those
whose good opinion is worth possessing."

TKL'F.

fodtliall team,
11)^ liiiii to tlic
the best part of

position to fight
loiit not ligliting
in\ and defeat,
'erley. when he

see the differ-
est of courage.

and there's no
)cct of all those

mother!" exclaimed Ralph
\V el d o n. lolling' into liie
mom and silting down in
oni' of the casyc hairs
w i t h a 1) u m p that
threatened to dam-
age the springs, " I
wish you coi.ld have
seen I'atsey Connora
diving off the head of the
lumber wharf. He's a boss
swimmer, ami no mistake."
" And who may I'atsey C'omiors be, Raljih ? " asked
Mrs. W'eldon, smiling indulgently at her eldest son's
reckless ways.

" Patsey Connors? Ah, he's a boy that's always
about the lumber wharf, " answered Ralph.

" Hut you know, Ralph, I don't want you to be
having as a coi"panion a boy tiiat 1 know nothing
about," said Mrs. Weldon. "He might be very bad
company for you."

" Patsey Connors would never do anybody harm,
mother," replied Ralph. "He's a real nice boy. "

157

IS8

RALPH VVELDON S RECRUIT

"Admitting that Patsey is a nice boy, and won't do
you harm, Ralph," said his mother, with a meaning
smile, ' ' will yoii do him any good ? ' '

" Will I do him any good, mother ? " echoed Ralph,
a bewildered look coming over his countenance. "I
never thought anything about that."

"Well, but don't you sec, my boy, that if you and
Patsey are much together you must have either a good
or a bad influence upon each other," jrs. Weldon ex-
plained; "and so, if you are sure t' ... ne cannot do
you any harm, I want to know if you are equally sure
that you are doing him good? "

Ralph had not his answer ready. His mother's
question was to some extent a poser. The idea of his
doing his playmates any particular good had never b "i
put to him in just that way before.

"For instance, Ralph," his mother went on, "do
you know if Patsey goe> to Sunday-school?"

Ralph shook his heao dubiously.

" I never asked him, mother ; but I feel pretty sure
he doesn't. I guess he spends most of his time on
Sundays down at the lumber wharf," he answered.

" I suppose you never thought of inviting him to go
to your Sunday-school," inquired Mrs. Weldon.

Ralph blushed a little and fidgeted in his chair.

"No, mother," he replied j "I don't think he'd
care to come, anyway."

"You don't know that until you've tried him.
Suppose you give him the chance. ' '

"Oh, mother, his clothes are so shabby, you know;

RECRUIT

ce boy, and won't do
ther, with a meaning
d?"

Iier ? " echoed Ralph,
lis countenance. " I
t."
boy, that if you and
St have either a good
ar," irs. W'eldon ex-
re t' ^. lie cannot do
f you are equally sure

eady. His mother's

ser. The idea of his

good had never Ij "i

nother went on, " do
ly-school ? ' '
f.
but I feel pretty sure

most of his time on
rf," he answered.
of inviting him to go

Mrs. W'eldon.

ted in his chair.

"I don't think he'd

you've tried him.

J shabby, you know ;

RALPH WELDON S RECRUIT

159

and he's poor and can't get any better ones," pro-
tested Rali)h.

"Surely, my son does not judge people by their
clothes!" said Mrs. Weldon, in a tone of reproach.
"Didn't you say I'atsey was a nice boy and a boss
swimmer? If you're not ashamed to play with him,
surely you would not be ashamed to go to Sunday-
school with him."

Again Ralph had no answer to make ; and after he and
his mother had talked together for some time longer,
he promised to do his best to get Patsey to accompany
him to Sunday-school- the very next Sunday.

This was on Friday, and the next morning Ralph,
true to his promise, gave Patsey the invitation in a
very pleasant, cordial way. Patsey was greatly sur-
prised. It was ^11 well enough for Ralph \Veldon, the
son of the rich merchant, to go in swiniUiing with him
at the lumber wharf, where there was nobody to see,
but to walk through the streets on Sunday with so
shabby a companion seemed quite a different matter ;
and then besides, if Ralph's friends at the Sunday-
school were all as finely dressed as himself, they might
object to having a i)oor boy brought in among them.

For these reasons and others Patsey was not easy to
persuade. P)ut, having promised to get him if he
could, Ralph was not to be put off, and in the end
carried his point, for Patsey consented to go with him
once at all events.

Early in the afternoon of Sunday, so that they might
be in their seats before the rest of the class arrived.

flff*"

1 60

RAT.PH WEI.DOX'S RECRUIT

liii

Ralph called for Patsey, and they set out together.
The poor little fellow had done his best to make a re-
spectable appearance. His face and hands shone with
soap : his clothes had been carefidly brushed ; and a
paner collar, several sizes too large for him, adorned
his neck. But his hat was fit only for a scarecrow, and
his boots seemed all pate hes. He had no mother to
look after him, and his fatlier was a cooper who spent
more money on whisky than on his boy, whom he
shamefully neglected.

Not even the sense of satisfaction at thi- doing of a
good deed prevented Ralph from feeling very conscious
and ill at ease, as in his fine broadcloth he walked
through the streets, meeting so many he knew, with his
strange companion. He was very glad when they
reached the handsome Calvary Church, and made their
way to the corner of the Sunday-school room where
Mr. Tenderley's class sat.

The teacher was already in his place and greeted
Ralph with a winning smile. Then on Patsey being
introduced he gave him the heartiest of handshakes
and a seat right beside himself.

" Pm very glad to see you bringing in recruits,"
said he, beaming upon Ralph ; and then, turning to
Patsey, -'I hope you'll .ike our school so much that
you'll be as regular an attendant as Ralph."

Patsey fairly blushed with pleasure. He quite forgot
his shabby clothes in the warmth of Mr. Tenderley's
welcome, and did not feel at all so uncomfortable as he
had expected he would when the other members of the

^*J™

RALPH WEI.nnN S RECKIIT

i6i

out together.
;t to make a re-
iiids shone with
)nished ; and a
r him. adorned

scarecrow, and
,d no mother to
oper who spent

boy, whom he

the doing of a
f very conscious
■loth he wallceil
2 knew, with his
;lad when they

and made their
lol room where

ace and greeted

on Patsey being

of handshakes

ng in recruits,"
then, turning to
)ol so much that
Iph."

He quite forgot
Mr. Tenderley's
omfortable as he

members of the

class came in and stared curiously at the new addition
to their ranks. They were too courteous to laugh, as
he had feared they would.

The lesson for the afternoon was about Zaccheus and
his eagerness to see Jesus. Mr. Tenderley spared no
pains to make it both intelligible and interesting to
Ralph's recruit, without singling him out in any marked
way, and Patsey listened with eager eyes and open
mouth. He was sorry when the teaching ended, and
shyly whispered to Ralph :

" Will there be more about Jesus another day? I'd
like to come again. ' '

That was the beginning of better times for Patsey
Connors. Ralph told his father about him, and Mr.
Weldon authorized his wife to have the bov fitted out
in a suit of clothes that would help him to be more at
his ease in the Sunday-school. Lest his father should
take them from him to pawn for liquor, Patsey was per-
mitted to keep his new clothes in Mr. Weldon's coach
house, whither he came for them every Sunday, putting
them back again before returning again to his miserable
home.

Some six weeks later, Patsey in the interval having
been faithful in his attendance upon the Sunday-school,
Mr. Weldon one morning at breakfast looked up from
his paper with the inquiry :

" Ralph, what's the name of that boy you got to go
to Sunday-school with you ? ' '

"Patsey Connors, sir," answered Ralph, wondering
why his father asked.

1 62

RALPH WELDON S RECRUIT

I ii

"Well, Ralph, I see he has been distingu.soing him-
self in a very enviable way. Here is haif a column
about him in the paper."

Mr. Weldon then went on to renJ a graphic descrip-
tion of a very gallant rescue from drowning at the lumber
wharf the night before. A steamboat excursion had
landed at the wharf, which was not ])roperly lighted.
A young girl, missing her way in the darkness, had
stepped off the high wharf and fallen with a scream
into the dock.

Immediately all was confusion. No one knew what
ought to be done, and the girl would undoubtedly have
been drowned l)ut for the heroic action of a boy named
Patsey Connors, who leaped into the dock, dived after
the girl, brought her to the surface, and held her there
in spite of lier frantic struggles, until at last lanterns
and ropes vere brought, and both were lifted up to
safety amid the cheers of the spectators. The account
closed with the suggestion that so splendid a deed
should not be suffered to pass without due recognition.

The moment his father finished, Rali)h, with a whoop,
snatched up his cap and dashed off for Miller's Alley,
where Patsey lived in a tumble-down tenement. He
found his recruit being interviewed by a reporter for an
evening paper, and as soon as he could get him away,
hurried him back to his own home and lirought him
straight into the breakfnst room, which his father had
not yet left.

"There, father," said he proudly, "that's Patsey
Connors ! "

ingu.shing him-
haif a column

;ra]iliic descrip-
ig at the lumber

excursion liad
operly lighted.

darkness, had
1 with a scream

one knew what
idoubtedly have
of a boy named
)ck, dived after
[ held her there
at last lanterns
>re lifted up to
The account
ilendid a deed
lue recognition.
li, with a whoop,
r Miller's Alley,
tenement. He
1 reporter for an
. get him away,
id brought him
h his father had

"that's Patsey

RALPH WEr.D'tNS RECRUIT

163

"Ah, indeed!" said Mr. Weldon, looking kindly
at the blushing, breathless boy. "Come here and let
me shake liands with you, I'atsey. You've been a \ery
brave boy, and I must see if something caniiut be done
for you, for we want such boys to grow up into strong
and able men."

Very proud did Ralph feel of his recruit, and great
pains did he take to introduce hiui to his companions
as the hero of the gallant rescue at tiie lumber wharf
Mr. Weldon too was as good as his word. He started
a subscription list in his behalf, heading it with a gen-
erous amount, and raised a goodly sum for the purpose
of sending I'atsey to school. Not only so. but he
presented his case to the Humane Society, ami obtained
a beautiful bronze medal for tiie little life-saver, who
had not dreamed of having such a [)re(ious possession.

Patsey' s progress was surely and steadily upwanl.
Under Mr. Tenderley's teaching he grew in knowledge
of the Saviour, and at his school he learned so (piickly
that at the end of a year Mr. Weldon tliought him fit
for his employ and gave him a place as office boy with a
promise of promotion in due time.

One day, after all this had taken place, Ralph was
talking about him to his motlier.

"Do you remember the (piestion, Ralph," said she,
"that I asked you when first you spoke of him to
me?"

"No, mother. W'.iat was it?'"

"I asked you if you thought yo.t were doing Patsey
any good. What would be your an war now? "

If"

164

RALPH WEI.nON's RECRUIT

"Well, mother," answered Ralph, "I don't know
whether I've done Patsey much good, but he certainly
has done me good. And I'm very glad I asked him
to come to Sunday-school, for Mr. Tenderley says he's
one of the best boys in hi class."

"I don't know
Hit he certainly
ad I asked him
lerley says he's

(■pN /hi tj^ BOYS in the congregation that
j^/ y^y.' filled Calvary Cimrch every Sun-
day morning and evening, voted
Mr. Brightly the best preacher they ever knew. 'I'his was
not only because he trieil to make every sermon inter-
esting as well as instructive and inspiring, but becausa
when out of the pulpit he had such a taking way that
they never thought of avoiding him if they saw him
coming up the street. (Jn the contrary they took good
care to remain right in his jjath, because they were sure
of receiving a smile well worthy of the pastor's name,
and some pleasant inquiry about their ])rogress in the
game they were playing — and Mr. Brightly' s knowledge
of games was by no means to be laughed at. He knew
the points and terms of all of them to perfection, and
could umpire a game of baseball, if necessary, without
making an error himself, however many the excited
players might make.

When, therefore, he preached a sermon especially
for the boys, as he did now and then, he was sure of a

i6s

1 1

l66 COURAGE AND COURTESY OF A CHRISTIAN

most attentive auilience, and ho was wont to say that
of all his sermons these we>e the ones he most enjoyed
preaching.

His last serm. -» l^ind had been upon "The

Courage and C:ou.u;-» »*1 . Ihristian," the grand char-
acter of Daniel ben: ■ , ■•tc. >nl as illustrating in a rare
degree both these noble qi; : -s ; and upon none
among his hearers had his earne!,t wt)rds more effect
than upon Percy Crant, who sat in a pew near the pul-
pit, fairly hanging upon the preacher's words.

Those three significant words, '• C'cuirage," "Cour-
tesy," "Christian,^' repeated again and again in the
sermon, for Mr. Brightly wishetl to impress them deeply
on his audience, fell into Percy's heart like seed into
the soil of a well-lilled garden.

They began to take root at once, and when, at the
conclusion of the sermon, the preacher .asked all to
join in singing the lamiliar gospel song, " Dare to be a
Daniel," Percy i)ut his whole heart into the music. It
expressed a new-born but strong and earnest resolution.
Thenceforward, Cod helping him. he, like Daniel, would
strive to show to others the courage and courtesy of a

Christian.

It was not long before his good resolution had to
stand the test of severe trial. Among Percy's school-
mates was a certain Tom PuUen, whose rough, selfish,
overbearing ways made liim very unpopular with the
boys. Indeed, they would have had very little to do
with him were it not that his father was one of the rich-
est men in the town and owned a great deal of prop-

.s:;--^'i>^^^C^ ■:'-.?*■■-( ^ *^"''

. -J'--' re^.-^; T?^""^'^

IRISTIAN

)nt to say that
l; most enjoyed

•n upon " Tlie
the grand char-
rating in a rare
1(1 u\)on none
ds more effect
w near the iml-
vori's.

rage," " Coiir-
d again in the
CSS them deeply
t like seed into

d when, at the
er .asked all to
" Dare to be a
5 the music. It
rnest resolution,
■ic Daniel, would
id courtesy of a

;solution had to
Percy's school-
e rough, selfish,
opular with the
very little to do
; one of the rich-
at deal of prop-

COUP.AGE AND COURTESY OF A CHRISTIAN 1 67

erty. In one corner of his estate was a field particu-
larly well suited for baseball, and Mr. Uullen permitted
it to be used for that purpose.

There was no other field in this neighborhood big
enough for a proper game, and consecpiently the boys
had to put up widi lom in order to have the use of iiis
father's field.

The Saturday afternoon following the sermon on
Daniel, there was a baseball match arranged between
the Kast Knd and West I'lnd boys. Percy would have
been on the West ImkI nine, only that during the week
he unluckily had a finger hurt so badly that he could
not play. They therefore made him umpire, his repu-
tation for fair play being beyond cavil, 'lom IJuUen
was < aplain of the Kast End nine.

There was a great deal of excitement felt among the
boys about the game. Two matches had been pre-
viously played between the sane teams, each team win-
ning one. l"he third would, tnerefore, settle the cpies-
tion as to whether the l-^ast lenders or the West End-
ers were the better players.

At three o'clock sharp, Percy called the game ; the
West Enders went to the bat, and the struggle com-
menced.

The playing was excellent on both sides, and the
game jjromised to be a very keen one. Percy had
many close decisions to make, but such perfect confi-
dence was felt in his impartiality that nothing he said
was questioned until the West lenders began to draw
ahead of their opponents. Then Bullen showed signs

1 68 COURAGE AND COURTICSV OK A CHRISTIAN

of a disposition to dispute Percy's decisions and to in-
dulge in sonic ''kicking."

His bluster, however, had no effect on the young
umpire, who continued to do his duty to the best of
his ability. His quiet firmness irritated Tom even
more than two adverse decisions, and the rough fel-
low's temper rose until it only needed some sort of an
excuse to burst forth into fury.

I'his excuse came when the game had reached the
sixth inning. The West lenders finished their half
with the score standing vt seven runs to four in their
favor. Then Bullen's nine took the bat. The first
struck out, but the second hit a long fly over the center-
field's head that gave him a home run. The third, in
trying to imitate him. was cleverly caught by second
base. With two men out and two runs to tie the score,
'I'om Bullen faced the pitcher. He looked so fiercely
in earnest as to ipiite disconcert Charlie Warren, and
in consecpience was given his base on balls.

Ned Masson was the next batsman. After allowing
two strikes to be called upon him, he got just the ball
he wanted, and sent it flying far into the left field. It
was a good three-baser, and Tom at once started to
run home. He was a slow base-runner, but Ned was
the fastest on either team, and in his eagernes.4 to score
he overran third base without glancing amund to see
where the ball was, and so came close upon Tom's

heels.

The ball had been a ell fielded and was now on its
way to the catcher. The East Enders roared out en-

RISTIAN

3ns and to in-

on the young
to the best of
xl Tom even
the rough fel-
anie sort of an

d reached the
led their half
four in their
mt. The first
iver thecenter-
The third, in
ght by second
o tie the score,
iked so fiercely
ie Warren, and
lis.

After allowing
A just the ball
e left field. It
jnce started to
r, but Ned was
^ernes.! to score
; arr>and to see
ie upon Tom's

was now on its
roared out en-

COURAC.E AND COURTESY OF A CHRISTIAN I69

couragement to the two base-runners who, straining
every nerve, strove to beat the white sphere to the
home plate.

The catcher, with hands outS])read and foot on the
plate, had eyes only for the ball ; but I'crcy ( jrant, a few
feet behind him, was watching both ball and runners.
With a smart smack the ball fell into the catcher's
hands just as Bullen flung himself forward on a des-
perate dive. The next instant the cat( her bent down
and touched Tom on the shoulder, while Ned Masson
sprang past him and crossed the plate in safety.

Tom's arm was stretched out to its fullest extent, and .
two fingers were upon the plate. If they were there
before the ball touched his shoulder he was safe, and
the score was tied.

Instantly there was a tremendous uproar. One party
shouted "Out !" The other party, headed by Tom,
shouted "Safe ! safe ! " with all their might and main.
Percy had given his decision at the moinent, but no
one had heard it.

At length there came a lull, and the West End cap-
tain was able to make himself heard.

"What's your decision, Percy?" he asked.

" Out at the home plate," answered Percy promptly.

"What's that you say? " cried Bullen, blustering up
to him. "You're crazy ! I was no more out than
Ned. Payne didn't touch me till I had my whole
hand on the home plate."

"I'm sorry I can't agree with you," answered Percy
quietly ; while the other boys, scenting a rumpus, lis-

"r i l^'-t ii^ Bir i lmf ""j I " ■ — ; -'^i^='-^i""

I/O COURAOE AN[) COURTESY OF A CHRISTIAN

tcnud eagerly for his reply. "I am unite cerlain yon
were out."

Witli a coarse oath Uullen, his laiT flaming with
anger, ste|)i)e(i nearer and, sliai^ing ills list in the um-
pire's lace, siionteil : "I wasn't out ; you know 1
wasn't I Yon want to t'avor yonr i«\mi side. N'on're
a mean, sneaking dieat, that's wiiat )ou are 1 "

At tile word " dieat " a llusli, almost as red as that
on I'um's fact; spread over I'eny's countenance, and
his hands clenched themselves into hard fists. No boy
had a keener sense of honor than lie. i'or that very
reason he had been clioseii umi)ire. i'he liateful word
stung him t.) tlie ipiic k. Vet i)> a very great etlorl he
managed to s(j control himself as to answer firmly :

" I'm not a cheat, Tom, and I ilon't want to favor
my own side. Vou were dearly out, and that is all
about it." And he moved as if he would turn his
back upon the other.

Tom's fury then rose to a white heat. " Vou are a
cheat !" he roared, "and I'll knock you down if you
say anothei word."

Percy turned and faced Tom with flashing eyes, but
tight-shut lips.

"There !" .shrieked Tom. now (juito beside himself
with rage. "Take that ! 'Chat's the (owardiy blow !"
.•\nd before Percy could ward it o((, he received a
sharj) slaj) on his right cheek.

Instantly his face grew wliite. except where a red
mark showed the jjlace of the Iilow. He raised his
flst to strike, >vliile Uullen put himself in a [josture of

IRISTIAN

ilc certain yon

! flaming with

list in the II 111-

yoii know I

side. Noil' re

are !"

; as red as that
mtenance, and

fists. No lioy

For that very
le hateful word
great ellorl he
'er firmly :
t want to favor
and that is nil
voiild turn hii>

" Voii are a
)ii down if you

shing eyes, but

beside himself
vvardiy blow ! "
he received a

t where a red
He raised his
n a posture of

COURAOE AND COURTJCSV OT A CHRISTIAN I/I

defense. Hut instead of striking, he suddenly checked
himself .mil let his iiaiid fall at iiis side. .\s if whis-
l)ered by his good angel, Mr. Itrighlly's words, " the
( ourtesy and courage ot a I'luistian," liail come into
his mind and saved him from the disgrace of an un-
seemly brawl. He steiiped back and the boys began
to talk again in their e.xcitemeiil.

At the sainc moment a rich, manly voice mad*' it^t'lf
heard bcliind him, exclain.'Ug in a tone of surprised
inquiry, "Why, boys, what's the meaning of this? I
came to see a game of baseball, not a prize figlit. "

I'ercy wheeled about, and as he found himself face
to fare with Mr. Ihightly, his first thought was, "Oh,
how thankful I am that 1 di<l not hit bac k I "

When the minister learned how the matter stood, he
gathered the boys about him.

"Hoys," said he, in his most winning tone, "it is
not half so hard to preach as it is to practise, and I
want to say to you that your playmate Percy has
taught you better by his example this afternoon than
I could have by preaching from my pulpit. You all
know him too well to believe for one moment tliat
he would deliberately (heat, and by controlling his
temper and taking a blow rather than fight, and so
daring to run the risk of being called a coward, he has
shown to you that, far from being a coward, he pc>s-
sesses tlie highest kind of courage. I am piDud to
have such boys in my congregation. T,et us all try,
boys, wherever wc are, to show to others ■ the courtesy
and the courage of a Christian.' "

!l"'

■ ii

172 COURAfiE AND COURTESY OF \ CHRISTIAN

The moment he finished, the boys of thei; own ac-
cord broke into three cheers for Percy (-rant, and three
more for t!:e minister, and it was long before any of
them forgot the ev- nts of that afternoon or the meaii'
ing of true courage.

# -^-

CHRISTIAN

^'s of thei; own a(
:y ('-rant, and three
long before any of
noon or the mean

— ^5^p ^^ —

r;^ O you believe that?"
asked Hub Barnard
of Carl Starratt, pointing to
a very highly colored poster,
which bore the picture of a man
in tights flying through the air
head downward, toward a netting
stretch.d ready to receive him. The poster was en-
titled : "The Leap for Life! Peynaud, the Cloud
Flyer, in his thrilling dive of one hundred and fifty
feet !" and so on, in the usual extravagant language
of the circus handbill.

"Of course I do," answered Carl promptly.
"Father says it's all true; and they're building the
tower out at the fair ground now for Peynaud to jump
from."

"You don't tell me !" said Hub half incredulously.
"And is the tower really one hundred and fifty feet
high? Why, that's every bit as high as our church
stcople. "

' ' One hundred and fifty feet ever/ inch of it, ' ' re-

173

174

A GREAT DEAL OF NERVE

plied Carl, proud of the certainty of his knowledge ;
for his father was one of the directors of the fair, and
he had heard him describing the tower to his mother.

" Well, ' can hardly believe il until 1 see it, and I'll
take good care to see it, I tell you !" returned Hub.
"How many times is he going to jump? "

" Every afternoon at three o'clock while the fair
lasts, bo you can be sure of seeing him," Carl an-
swered.

"That's good! I won't miss him if I know my-
self"

The fair took place the following week, and all De-
potville was agog with eagerness to see the wonderful
"cloud flyer, in his thrilling leap for hfe."

His part of the programme was of course only an
extra attraction, the main purpose of the fair being to
exhibit at their best the agricultural and industrial pos-
sessions and products of the surrounding country. But
it must be confessed that there v.as far more interest
taken in Peynauas tower than in ihe sleek, shiny
cattle or plethoric pumpkins.

This tower was rude enough in construction, being
simply an open-work affair of unplaned scantling, but
it looked very lofty and impressive notwithstanding,
particularly as a place to jump from.

Hub and Carl were well to the front in the crowd
that gathered about its base on the first afternoon of
the fair, and they both felt their hearts in their mouths
when Peynaud ajjpeared clad in crimson tights, and
after bowing to the appl '.uding spectators proceeded to

A GREAT DEAL OF NERVE

175

s knowledge ;
f the fair, and
3 his mother,
see it, and I'll
eturned Hub.

ivhile the fair
im," Carl an-

■ I know my-

:, and all De-

the wonderful
1 1

:ourse only an
e fair being to
industrial pos-
country. But
• more interest
; sleek, shiny

Tuction, being

scantling, but

itwithstanding,

t in the crowd
St afternoon of
ri their mouths
on tights, and
i proceeded to

uiount the tower, amid the breathless silence that
settled down upon the gaping multitude. Very delib-
erately the daring gymnast made the ascent, and when
he reached the summit, stood upon the little platform
for a few minutes looking unconcernedly about him.

"What nerve he must have ! " exclaimed Hub, his
own heart throbbing at a rate that would have im-
l)eriled his balance had he been standing in Peynaud's
place. " I wish I was brave enough to do it."

" Sh . He's going to jump ! " exclaimed Carl,

gripping Hub's arm tightly.

Extending from the foot of the tower for about fifty
feet was a very strong netting, held up by big posts.
In the center of this netting was a mattress. Aiming
straight at this white patch Peynaud bent forward.
The spectators were hushed into perfect silence. Then
a simultaneous gasp broke from them. Peynaud,
straightening his legs, had shot out into space. Like
a flash of flame he flew through the air, head down-
ward, u'Uil within twenty feet of the net. Then, by a
cpiick m'>yement, he turned half over, so as Vo strike
the mattress with his broad shoulders first. Like a
rubber ball he bounded up into the air and, coming
down upon his feet, bowed gracefully to the crowd,
while a hurricane of applause testified to the success of
his performance.

Hub gave a very graphic description of the feat to
his mother that evening, and wound up with : "What
a brave man Peynaud must be ! He must have a great
deal of nerve to take such a jump as that."

IB ;

11'

176

A GREAT DEAL OF NERVE

ill m

1'
111

'II I

" No doubt he's brave, Hub ; yet I can't spy I have
any admiration for what he does," answered Mrs.
Barnard. "It seems to me nothing but a piece of
foolhardiness that ought not to be allowed. What
good does it do to anybody? There are far better
ways of showing nerve than that, dear."

"I suppose there are, mother," responded Hub,
his enthusiasm somewhat dampened by his mother's
words. ' ' But I think it was a wonderful thing to do,
all the same."

The town of Depotville, in which Hub Barnard
lived, was a railway center of considerable importance.
One could hardly walk half a mile in any direction
without coming to a crossing, and as the trains were
darting to and fro over the tracks at all hours, day and
night, this state of affairs caused no small inconvenience
to the inhabitants, and accidents were not unknown.

A week after Hub had seen Peynaud's thrilling dive
he was hurrying from school to the football field when
he came to a railway crossing, where there were several
tracks side by side. Upon one of them a number of
empty cars had been shunting, shutti ig out t' view in
that direction. As he ran along th(> -kU-'v ;'k he
caught sight of a train rusiung up {vm-> '.'•. Jght,
but calculated he had plenty of time to pass in front
of it, so he kept on through the gate and out on
the crossing. He did pass that train safely, but failed
to see another approaching swiftly from the left until it
was right upon him. With a cry of horro • he threw
himsalf backward and, had his foot not slipped, he

I't s?y I have
iswered Mrs.
ut a piece of
)wed. What
ire far better

ponded Hub,

his mother's

il thing to do,

Hub Barnard
e importance,
any direction
lie trains were
lOurs, day and
inconvenience
it unknown.
5 thrilling dive
)all field when
e were several
n a number of
»ut t' view in
sidewn'k he
om th<- -ight,
) pass in front
e and out on
fely, but failed
he left until it
irrv." he threw
ot slipped, he

A GREAT DEAL OF NERVE

^//

would have escaped. Unhappily he tripped on the
rail and fell flat with his left foot inside the rails. Ik-
fore he could withdraw it the express train thundered
down upon it, crushing mercilessly through bone and
sinew. When it had passed Hub's foot hung to iIk
leg by a mere riubon of mangled flesh.

Kind hands quickly bore him to an adjoining house,
and a few minutes later a surgeon arrived. Fearful as
was his suffering, Hub '.ever uttered a cry nor lost
consciousness for a moment. When they asked where
he lived he an>\vered at once, but added (juickly :

'Don't send word home; mother would be too
frij;, iA,;ned. It will be time enough to tell her when
yo'i lake me there."

irie was the only son of his mother and she was a
^Yidow. Kven in the midst of his agony he had fore-
thought for her and would spare her the shock of see-
ii s: him before his injuries had received attention.
H:> wishes were obeyed, and the surgeon hastened to
complete the amputation begun by the i)itiless car-
whteis. To his dismay there was no chloroform at
hand and no time could be spared to send for it.

"Never mind," said Hub, in a steady voice. "I
can stand it without chloroform."

And stand it he did without a quiver, until the work
was done and the bandaging finished, and then he
fainted away just as he heard the surgeon saying to
him, in tones of warm admiration :

"You' re a hero ! I never saw better nerve in my life."

An hour later he was comfortably settled in his own

178

A (iREAT DEAL OV NERVE

rorom at home, liis mother sitting beside him arid hold-
ing ills hand as lie described iiow the accident had
happened, and iiow i<inu llie people were to him.

" Hut why ditln't you have me sent for immeiUately,
Hub darling?" asked iMrs. liarnard, whose tear-stained
face showed how deeply she felt the trouble.

" Hccause, mother dearest. 1 knew what a shock it
would be if you saw me before the surgeon fixed me
up ; and I thought it was better for you not to know
until liiey brought me home," answered Hub.

Mrs. Harnard bent down and covered his jiale face
with loving kisses. " And so you thought of your poor
mother in the midst of all your pain," she said, in
tones of tender pride. "Do you know, Hub," she
continued, ".vhnt I have been thinking of as I lis-
tened to you f You seemed to think that that foolisli
acrobat siiowed a great deal of nerve in jumping from
the top of his tower, but I thi-iic that my boy showed
far more and far better nerve in remembering his
mother and seeking to spare her feelings although he
was all the while in dreadful pain himself"

A blush of joy spread over flub's countenance and
a happy smile played about his lips as he said :

"I'm so glad you think so, mother. I do want to
be always brave, and the surgeon said that he never
saw b tter nerve in his life than I showed during the
operation. But I'm sure I couldn't do what Peynaud
did, all the same."

"Yet yoi; were tl,c biaver of the two, dear," re-
sponde-] M:,>-\ Rnrnard

UiiL

I]^^^^?>^

im arid hold-
iccident had
to liini.
immciliatoly,
e tear-stained
le.

at a shock it
eon fixed me
1 not to know
l-iub.

his jiale face
of your poor
she said, in
, Hub." she
; of as I hs-
it that foolish
jum]>ing from
y boy showed
emberifig his
j although he

ntenance and
said :

I do want to
that he never
id during the
vhat Peynaud

I'o, dear," re-

lUCH a

winter as it
was ! Scjuire Chis-
hoim, who took much pride
in an untjuestioned title to the honor of
being the "oldest inhabitant," would
/ shake his snow-white head as he gave
igain and again that in all Ills recollec-
that was saying a good deal, you know —
there had never been before so extraordinary a season.
'J'he -jxtraordinary part of it was this : tiiat although
the colli came right enough, and Jack Frf)st bound up
the stream* and ponds and lakes and rivers in his
gleaming fetters of ice and turned the ground into iron,
the snow, which most of us think to be the best thing
about winter, its redeeming feature so to speak, did
not come also ; or when it did, it was in such small
quantities as to be of no practical benefit. Now and
then there would be a Hurry, and the hearts of the
boys that were lamenting the loss of coasting, snow-
balling, and tobogganing, would be filled with hope;
but it would prove nothing more than a flurry, and

179

^^ v >^ j ij."i 5WV i*

[80

A I'AIR OF ;iKATlii5 AND A HUKI.ICY

III

\ I'si

iUL— —

after about a handful of white dust had fallen, the sup-
ply would cease and the boys return to their lamenta-
tions.

They had only one source of consolation, and of
this they made the most ; the skating was simply superb.
Every pond had become a mirror tiiat flaslied the sun-
shine merrily back in their faces and, better still, the
South River, which came from away up the country in
a placid, lovely stream, and then, just before losing
itself in the great ocean, spread out into a broad and
beautiful expanse they called the harbor, this South
River that the boys loved almost as though it were a
Uving thing, wound along between its banks wearing a
crystal breastplate the eciual of which not even the
squire had ever seen before. I'lom the harbor as far
up inland as anybody had explored, the ice was beyond
reproach ; and how the boys of Upper South River,
Lower South River, and the other little villages scat-
tered along its banks did appreciate it.

"It's a good thing that there's such fine skating,
since w can't do anything else," remarked Charlie
Wilkie to his chum, Frank Hill, one day.

"Yes, indeed! " answered Frank ; " we fellows would
have a precious stupid time of it if the ice wasn't so
fine. I do wish the snow would come, though. I'm
getting rather tired of skating."

"Oh, I'm not," said Charlie. "I've learned such
a lot of didos this winter, and if the skating holds out,
I'll have the double locomotive perfect before the win-
ter's over."

IKY

Icn, the sup-
icir lamenta-
tion, and of
lujily siiperl).
lied the sun-
tter still, the
e country in
)efore losing
a broad and
, this South
igh it were a
iks wearing a
lot even the
harbor as far
i was beyond
South River,
villages scat-
fine skating,
irked Charlie

fellows would
ice wasn't so
;hough. I'm

learned such
ng holds out,
jfore the win-

A I'AIK OF SKATES AND A HUKI.EV

l8l

" All well enough for you, Charlie," Krank replied
somewhat ruefully. " You seem to take lo skating like
a duck to water, while as for ]K)or me, if I ever learn
to do the Dutch roll backward decently, it will be a
wonder."

"Nonsense, Frank," said Charlie laughing. "You
will learn all rigiit. Come along now and have another
try at the single grapevine. You really must get the
better of that this winter."

So the two friends went off for their skates, and soon
♦ afterward were spinning over the ice like a pair of birds.

There was a good deal of truth i.i the compliment
. Frank had just paid Charlie. He did seem to take
naturally to skating, and already, although only a little
over fifteen, could go faster and do more dil'ti. iilt
things than any other boy on the river. In fact, he
was ([uite a hero among his companions and was gener-
ally leader in tl- • sports they had on the ice, such as
hockey, hamca, b. ste the bear, and so forth.

Hockey was a favorite game with the South River
boys. They played it every afternoon and all day
Saturday, and never seemed to weary of it. (Generally
on Saturday afternoons they would have a match be-
tween the Piasters and Westers — that is, between those
who lived on the east and those on the west bank of
the river. The teams being pretty evenly matched, a
great deal of interest was taken in these contests. On
fine afternoons there would be a crowd of onlookers,
and the whole valley would ring with cries of the play-
ers and the shou*;s of the spectators. Charlie Wilkie,

182

A PAIR or SKATluS AND A HURLEY

bciny not less cxpt-rl \vitl\ l\is liiirloy than with his
skates, of loursc taptainol one bide, the West, the other
captain l)eing iUiciiey liillings, an overgrown chap who
was intlined to be a bit of a bully if he saw a gt)ocl
chance.

Charlie and Frank encountered Huckey on their way
to the river, and he hailed them in his rough fashion.
" Hullo, Westers ! doing to have a game to-night?"

"(uiessnot," rei)lied Charlie. "We're just going
to have a little skate."

"You'd better put in all the practice you can, my
hunkers, or we'll beat you clean out of your boots next
Saturday," shouted Huckcy, who had not been very
successful in the last few matches.

"All right," returned Charlie pleasantly. "If you
can do it, you're welcome to."

" Have you got a good team for Saturday? " asked
Frank, after Buckey hail passed on.

"Capital," answered Charlie; " the best I ever had.
I am not afraid of the result. ' '

As the end of the week drew near indications of a
change in the weather appeared. Each day proved
milder than the day before, and Friday was one of
those rare and lovely days in winter which are called
"weather-breeders," because they are so often the
precursors of a storm. The boys were very anxious
about Saturday, and felt sure it would be their last
chance for a match for the rest of the winter. Charlie
Wilkie could hardly contain himself, so troubled was he
about the weather. Buckey Billings had been boasting

..uv* .1 "-wm.- l:i- ' fef.vj.,1.!. ' i-^^i- . ' > Ti »

{LEY

han with his
est, llio other
wii chap who
,' saw a good

on tlicir way
jiigli fashion,
u lo-niglit?"
re just going

you can, my
ur boots next
Dt been very

ly. "If you

day?" asked

it I ever had.

lirations of a
1 day proved
,' was one of
ch are called
so often the
very anxious
be their last
ter. Charlie
•ubled was he
jeen boasting

A PAIR OF SKATES AND A HURI.KV

'83

of the splendid team he was going to bring out, in
which it was wiiisi-cred tliere would lie some i ra( k play-
ers from tlie city wlio ]iai)pened to be visiting in tiie
neighborhood. So Ciiarlie determined to be in the
best possil)ie condition and play as he had never playeu
before. One can imagine then what liis " .ere
wiien, on coming home early Friday a ^rnoor, his
mother greeted him with :

"Oil. Cliarlio, I'm so glad you're here, (let your
dinner as cpiickly as you (an, for I want you o go down
to Uncle Hugh's at the Cape."

" Uncle Hugh's! " exclaimed Ciiarlie in amazement.
" Why, mother, how on earth am I to get there? The
marc is lame, and I certainly can't walk 'bat distance
this time of year."

"No, Charlie, but father thinks you could skate
there easy enough. You know it's only a little distance
from the shore, and they say the ice is good tlie whole
way. ' '

"But, moth'-r, I've got to play the biggest match of
the season to-morrow afternoon, and I' 11 be tlead tired.

"Well, I'm sorry, Charlie; but I have to send an
important message to Uncle Hugh to-day, and if you
don't go, father will nave to, and you know he's not
feeling over strong just now."

Poor Charlie ! He was altogether too affectionate a
son to think for one moment of allowing his father to
go; but then, ten miles to the Cape and ten miles back
again meant tired legs for the next twenty-four hours
at least, and tired legs were not exactly the best thing

klilli

j!|j||M.!

184

A TAIR OF SKATI'S AND A HURLEY

for a hockey match. Seeing liis concern, liis mother
said :

"You can stay all night at Unde Hugh's and come
back in the morning."

"Oh, that won't do, mother. I'll be busy in the
morning. 1 nnist get back again to-night,"

"Just as yon like, ClKuiic ; but 1 tiiink it \vt)uld be
better for you to slu) all iiigiil, for it uill be iiuile late
when you are coming back. "

"Oh, I don't mind tiiat, mother. I'he moon is
nearly full, a d it will be bright enough. So get your
note written; tlie sooner I'm off the better." And
while Charlie bolted his dinner, his mother scribblcil
down what she had to tell Uncle Hugh.

It was about four o'dot k when t!harlie started ofl",
and having given his mother a hearty good-bye kiss, he
was soon speeding down the river at a lively rate,
swinging to and fro the hurley which was his constant
companion during the skating season. He took a good
deal of pride in this hurley, and with reason, for no
boy in the neighborhood had a better one. His father
had had it specially made for him as a Christmas present
the winter before, and many a winning stroke did it
score in Ch.irlie's skillful hands. It was a beautiful
piece of tough maple, varnished all over ami decorated
with red and blue lines in the most artistic fashion,
while the handle was lashed with fine twine so as to
give the firmest possible grip.

The air was so pleasant and the ice so perfect that
Charlie's ill-humor did not stay with him long, and by

URLKV

Til, Ilis lUDllicr

gh's and ronu'

be busy in the

il."

nk it would be

ill be (luite late

The inoun is

So K«-"t yoi'f

better." And

other scribbled

rile started off,
od-bye kiss, ho
a lively rate,
as his constant
He took a good
reason, for no
le. His father
iristmas present
5 stroke did it
ivas a beautiful
• and decorated
artistic fashion,
twine so as to

so perfect that
a long, and by

^aj

^%.

«,",^> %^

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

1.25

1^
1^

IIM

16 3

12.2
2.0

U 111.6

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14530

(716)872-4503

•1?

■%^

^9>

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHM/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut canadien de microreproductions historiques

A PAIR OV SKATES AMI A HURLKV

l8:

the time he had j^^one a mile he was whisllini,' as merrily
as a iiird. A light liearl witli a sturdy pair of legs to
carry it can make short work of e\en ten long miles,
and Charlie was utiite surprised himself when Uncle
Hugh's home ( ame into sight as he dashed out on the
broad surface of the harlior. Sm h good time had he
made that the family were only sitting ilown to supper
when he arrived, and they welcomed him warmly to a
seat at the tahle. His ten-mile skate had given him a
famous appetite and tired him not a little, and his
cousins weri.' so glad to see him that he lingered with
them somewhat longer than he IkuI intended. When
he annoimced his intention of returning home that
night the whole family rose up in opposition

" \'ou really must not leave us, Charlie. I couldn't
think of allowing you to go home to-night," said Aunt
Kllen.

•• Oh, Cliarlie. do stay," put in Omsin Alec, "and
we'll have a first-class pillow light before we go to
bed."

" i'leasestay, Charlie," pleaded pretty Cousin Mary.
" I want to show you the lovely album Cnde I'rank
sent me from ISoston."

'• I really tliink it's not wise for you to go back to-
night," said grave rn(le Hugh.

But Charlie wj'.s proof against all ])ersiinsion. advice,
and entreaty, and even when .\lec as a final argument
said, ''Colin (Miisholm says that wolves have been
prowling around the T.end lately," Charlie only
laughed and persisted in going, so his relatives had to

I 86

A I'AIK (II- SKATES ANIi A lUKI.KV

give way and allow him to start off aliom liaH- past sc\cn.
feeling tlioroiighl) rested and ready lor ]ii> journey.

The night was not very promising. The sun had set
among a he.ivy mass of elouds wliii li now eovereil
the whole heavens, permitting very little of the light
from the rising moon to struggle through. .\ dreary,
ciiiUing wind had begun to Mow from the east, and al-
together the prospect looked very different from what
it !iad been in the afternoon. IV-fore he had gone half
a mile Charlie felt strongl\- temjited to turn had;, espe-
cially as .Mec's remarks about the wolves seemed some-
how or other to take hold upon his mind, but his pride
rebelled against this and he pushed steadily on, gripping
his hurley tight and comforting himself with the thought
that it would make a very good weapon if properly
handled.

One mile, two miles, tliree miles, four miles — and
the sheet of ice that was so broad in Iront of Unde
Hugh's narroweel down to n(jt much more than a
hundred yards. l''rom its edge on either side for about
two hundred yards more, stretched the level fields called
intervale, from whi( h great crops of hay were gathered
every summer. They were now -Ijrown and sere, and
overrun with dense withered aftermath. ISeyond them
rose the old river banks sloping ujiward to the hills, and
covered thick witii a heavy growth of tree and under-
brush which extended as far .is eye could see on the
clearest day : for the country was but little settled about
" The P.end," as this jiart of the river was called, and
the forest still affonled protection to many kinds of game.

inKi.iiy

It lialt'i>ast scNcn.
i- liis journey.

The sun IkuI set
j( li now covered
iitle of the light
3iigh. A dreary.

the east, and al-
ilTerent from what

he had gone half
I turn lia( k, espe-
se'S seemed sonie-
ind. hnt his priile
:adily on, grii)i)ing
f with the thought

pon if jiroperly

lour miles — and
in front of l_ n( le
ich more than a
her side for about
• level lields called
ia\' were gathered
iwn and sere, and
li. iSeyond them
(1 to the hills, and
if tree and tindcr-
could see on the
little settled about
er was called, and
any kinds of game.

A P.\IR UK SKATRS WO A IIIKI.P.Y

187

As he reached the halt-way jioint in his homeward
journey Charlie began to feel his exertions telling upon
him, and thought he would rest a moment. So he sat
down upon a stranded log and looked about him.
Never in his lite before had he felt so utterly alone.
Not a sound broke the still solitude save the dreary
sighing of the wind in the distant trees. To the very
bottom of his heart he wished he had stayed at Incle
Hugh's. But it was too late now. He had no other
choice than to go forward.

Suddenly, as he sat there, a strange wild howl pien ed
the air, and, falling \ipon his ears, sent an icy chill of
terror .through every limb. It ( ame from the eastern
forest and was followed fast by another and then
another. Charlie had never heard the howl of a wolt',
but instinct told him that the dreadftd sound whi( h
clearly was coming nearer couUl be nothing else.

"Gracious goodness!" he exclaimed to himself.
" There are the wolves as sure as I'm here ! I've got
to skate for my life," and springing to his feet he
dashed off at his toiimost speed. All his weariness
had left him now, and the river banks fairly Hew past
him as, with head bent low and hurley swinging, he
sped over the glistening ice. There was not a boy in
all the valley that could otitstrip him. and at first he
rather exulted in the idea of a race with the wolves.

But presently the howls drew nearer and nearer,
though he was skating •• for all he was worth," as he
would say himself, and the feeling of exultation gave
place to one of growing alarm. He had three miles to

ISS

A I'AIK OF SKATF.S AND A IIURI.F.V

go licforc leai liiii;^ the luaiol house and oi a '~ntj mile
ol tliis liad liec'ii (ovcreil \\h(.n, glaiK i)ig tVatriilly o\cr
his slioulder, he caii^iil sight of three dark forms gallop-
ing along the iiank not a hmulred \artls behind him.
do faster he coidl not, altiiongh the sight almost
tVen/ied him, and he knew the woKes were gaining
upf)n him with fiightful rapiilit). A (piarter of a mile
more, and the leader and largest of the three was even
with him, loping easily along the edge of the bank,
but evidentl)' loth to wiitiire out upon the slipfiery
ice.

Noticing this Charlie breathed a little more freely; but
his relief soon vanished when he saw the brute dash on
ahead to a bend in the river and then stop. 'I'here
was no mistaking the piupose of this movement. He
meant to await Charlie's approach and then spring at
him as he went ]>ast. The boy saw it all in a iiioment
and the same moment there flashed into his mind an
idea that made him tighten his grasp ujion his hurley
and sumn\on all his slrength as he said between firm,
set teeth :

"Ah, you brute ! vou haven't got me yet."
.As he drew near the ]ioint he slackened speed
slightly and veered out of his course toward the oppo-
site bank. With a fierce, deej) snarl the wolf sprang
out upon the ice and shot toward him. .\t the same
instant Charlie wheeled to the right so as almost to face
his foe, who of course <'ould oiilv go straight ahead,
and then just as those < rucl jaws si'emed readv to
fasten upon hiin he stopped suddenlv, turned asitle,

, HURI.F.V

and (II c\ '~nc mile
K iiii,' fearfully o\er

(lark forms gallop-
anls i)fliiii(l him.

the sight almost
lives were gaining

([uarter of a mile

he three was even
dge of the bank,
ipon the slippery

le mure freely; but
tlte brute dash on
then stop. 'I'here
i mo\ement. He
and then spring at
it all in a iiunnent
I into his mind an
sp u]ion his hurley
said between firm,

me yet."
slackened sjieed

toward the ojipo-
irl the wolf sprang
lim. .\t the same
o as almost to face
;o straight ahead.

seemed rea(l\ to
nl\', turned aside,

A I'AIK ol" >KATES AND A IIUKI.I.Y

189

swung his heavy hurley in both hands high over his
head and bnitighl it down wilii tremeiulnu.-^ lore c lull
upon the brute's head just behind the ears. It was a
terrible blow, and without a sound the monster rolled
over on the ice dead.

With a cry of mingled joy and relief Charlie sprang
away ju^t in time to escajie tlu' onset of the other two
woKes that had followed tlieir leader's example and
bounded across at su( h a rale that when the boy dodged
them they went sliding i)a>l him. sn;iilii\u and >napiiing
their jaws, but powevk>.^ to do him any liann. \\ hen
they did regain their leet they jiaid no more attention
to Charlie, but forthwith >et to work upon the body
o\ their late (omiianion, while the human jirey ihev
had sought rajiidly disappeared in the distance.

A (piarter of an hour later a very mm h exhausted
boy knocked at the door of h'raser the b.lacksmith.
Tired as he was. however, a triumiihant look .^hoiie in
his face that re(|uired exjilanation. 'I'he i'rasers soon
heard his story, and no sooner was it t(ji(l than the big
blacksmith and one of his almost eepially big sons
shouklered their rille- and went off down the river.
A-hile Charlie feeling himself to lie somewliat of a hero,
even if a very tired one, gladly ac(e|ited Mrs. I'laser's
hearty invitation to remain there for the night.

It was late when he awoke next morning and oh
dear, how stiff and sore he felt ! As soon as he
apjieared Hen l-'raser shouted to him from the forge :

"Come here. Charlie, and look at this." and there
stretched against the side of the forge were three great

IQO

A I'AIK Ol' aKAlLb AM) A IIURI.IA'

wolfskins ; one, tht" largest, ratluT torn liy wnll'i^li ti-eth,
llic otlicrs showing; luil a Imllct liolc apicic.

'■ \'uii lan lia\o all tinvc, t'harlic," said tlio black-
sinitli. •■ Wo all' (|iiili.' lontcni with lia\ing killed two
of the bniti's. "

it nc'fii hardly ho saiti tlial when thr story ciinc out
Charlie was tlu- hero of the South River valley, and
his satisfai tion was comiilete when that Saturday after-
noon, the had weather being good eiu)ngh to hold off
a liule longer, stiff and sore as he was. he led his team
to a victory over the llasters al the hockey match,
although the latter did have four (rack i)layers from the
city on their side.

IIUKI.I.V

11 li\ wnH'iNli toeth,
ijiici f.

:," said the l)la(k-
luuiiig killed two

he story caiiR' out
River valley, and
at Saturday after-
'lH)iit;h to hold olT
s. he led his team
ie hockey match,
k players from tlic

->e"

IRl'.AT was the di'li-hl of
• Sandy Wv^a, John " - for
^,o |]iM)]ik' 1 ailed \ oMIlt,'
Alexander ( anuron in
order lo di.^lin,L,Miish him
lioni (iiIkts oI the same
...-^ name, just as his father

^h a (1 been dubbed " l!ig
lohn" to distinguish him from other John
("amerons— great was the delight of .Sandy when
the railroad tame jiushing its way through his la-
ther's farm, and on again toward its distant terminus.
l''or the Cameron farm was a lonely place, being situ-
ated in a break in the forest known as '-Cameron's
Clearing," where the trees ( losed in all around it, shut-
ting it out so completely from the rest of the world
that its unexpected a|)i)earanec was always a bit of a

191

rgt s\M)Y CAM. ;;< N TO nil. rp>cue
surprise to iia\i'rrs gnint; over that ruuti- lor the first

s
tniu

'Tis tnif lliat ll.c (naili. «illi its (lonlilc snan of
praiKiiig liorscs ami load of iias>t.'iii;t r> aiul trunks,
went l.y every tlay. but the mail Ikmiii; very strait;lil
and level just in Ironl of Canurun's. the driver always
took ad\anta,ue of it to dasli pa^l at a rattling paie. so
that the big swaying \elii.le had s( an ely < onie into
sight from the left lietore it was out of sight again at
the right, .\nyway. Sandy M)on grew ii^ed to >eeing
theioarli pass and often thought it hanlly wortli wliiie
to run down tt) the front gale, altlioiigh. as sure a> lie
did. the driver hailed luni < heerfully with some such
ipiestion as, " Ilullo, Sandy, how many freckles have
you got to-day?" sometimes tossing down a letter or
paper for the boy's father.

'I'he railway, however, was (piite a different affair.
First eame the engineers, two uf whom stayed at his
father's, and Sandy followed them day by day, as with
theodolite and nnl and rhain they went carefully over the
ground, dri\ ing in stakes to mark the route they selected.
'I'hen a little later came the contractors with their
gangs of men, some of whom put up at 15ig John's,
and Sandy forgot that he had ever been lonely, while
with unwearying interest he watched the broad swath
being cut through the forest, the road-bed being laid
true and str-igl'^, the sleepers and rails fastened in
their jjlaces.

P>iit all this was as nothing to the wild delight that
thrilled him when the first train went thundering d( vn

LESCUE

uuti- litr the fifhl

(loll Ilk' siian of
;i'i> iiiul trunks,
•in^; \cry straiglil
111' (lii\tr always

ratlliiig iiaci'. so
ancly i oim.- into
of si};ht again at
,v iisi'd ti) sccinj;
anllv worth while
;h, as sure as lie
■ with sonic such
my freckles have

down a letter or

a (lifferent affair,
oni stayed at his
ly by day, as with
t carefully over the
jute they selected,
ractors with their
ip at r>ig John's,
leen lonely, while
1 the broad swath
ad-bed being laid
I rails fastened in

wild delight that
I thundering d( vn

SANDY CAMKKON Ti i 1111. KI„S( UK

19.^

the track, its huge engine and long line of <ars all gay
with bunting and (rowiled with peoiilc. Sandy fell
perfectly sure he (oiild ueser tire of such a sight as
that, and the knowledge that henceforth trains would
be constantly passing to and fro before his liouie made
him feel more contented with it than he had been for
many a day.

It was midsummer when the I'-astern Extension Rail-
way opened for Irattic, and by autumn Sandy was well
known to every engine driver and conductor on the
road, for he seemed to be always on the lookout to
wave his hat to them as tlu train went speeding by.
Now and then he got a ride too. thanks to the kind-
ness of some friendly conductor who would slow up his
freight train until the boy (oiild jump on, and then
carry him off to the nearest station, whence he would
return in the same way.

" It's not a farmer but an engine driver that Sandy' II
be," said Mrs. Cameron to her husbaiul. " 'l"he
lad's clean daft about the train."

" Well, 1 don't know as I mind," replied J5ig John,
who was very fond of his only son. " I'll a deal sight
rather see him a good driver than a poor farmer any-
way. If his heart's in it let him have his will."

So Sandy was allowed to enjoy himself iincnn;kcd.

About two miles west of the Cameron farm the rail-
road ran through a narrow gorge called 1 )eep Valley,
which had been chosen in order to save going a long
way around, or driving a costly tunnel through the
hills. It was intended to build snow sheds in the nar-

^.Ji'P

194

SANDY CAMF.K-1N TO THE RESCUE

rowcst ])art of the gorge, l)iit this liad iu)t Iicl-u done
wlioM ll>c winter closed in and then, of course, it was
too hue.

During the early part of the winter no great quan-
tity of snow fell and the tra< k < ould be kept clear with-
out much difficulty. Sandy fairly shouted with glee
the first time he saw the great snow-plow tearing grandly
through the drifts and tossing the snow from off the
track as if enrageil at its impertinence in l)eing there.
lie thought to himself what a fine thing it would he if
his father only IkuI something like that to clear the
paths to the ham and tlie well, for oh, how his back
did ache sometimes wiiile he was doing it with nothing
belter than a small shovel !

Just before Christmas one of the engineers in charge
of the line came down from headipiarters to have a
look at Deep X'allcy, for there was no knowing when
the snow might give trouble there. He brought with
him two odd-looking things such as Sandy had never
seen before. He called them snow-shoes and aston-
ished the boy by strajiping them to his feet and strid-
ing gayl)' over the deep snow where without them he
would not have been able to take a single step.

So great was Sandy's admiration that the kind-hearted
engineer showed him how to use them, and before he
went away promised him a pair for a Christmas present.
Sure enough, on Christmas eve as a train flashed by, a
big parcel was Hung out to Sandy, standing expectantly
at the pate, and in that parcel he found a pair of snow-
shoes, with a pair of moccasins lashed to them.

<RSCUE

1 nut l)CL'n clone
of course, it was

no },'reiit quan-
L- kept clear witli-
loiited with t^lee
)W tearing grandly
low from off the
; in l)oing there,
ing it would be if
that to clear the
oh, how his back
ig it with nothing

igineers in charge
larters to have a
lo knowing when
He brought with
Sandy had never
-slioes and aston-
m's feet and strid-
without them he
ngle step,
t the kind-hearted
m. and before he
Christinas present,
train flashed by, a
inding expectantly
nd a pair of snow-
d to them.

SANDY C.XMKRON TO llll. KKSCUE

'95

"Oh, mother, just look here !" called the delighteil
boy as lie rushed into liie lioiise. " Mr. Abbott
didn't forget nic. Here are liie snow-shoes and tiie
things for my feet too."

Siicii a h.ii)py Ciiristmas as Saiuly h.ul, llianks to Mr.
Abbott's ihoughtfiilness ! Nearly the wii(;le day he
spent tramping about, getting many a tuniliie, and
often being half burietl in a big snowdrilt, but persever-
ing until belbre dark lie could manage to walk very well
indeed. And then wasn't he a proud boy? Welling-
ton himself was not more elated when Waterloo was won.

Little did Saiuly or Mr. Abbott imagine what a for-
tunate thing that gift of the snow-shoes was to prove be-
fore another month had passed,

By New Year's Sandy (ouKl walk on his shoes as
well as tiie engineer himself, and many a tramp diil he
have along the road and through the wootls, until his
mother began to comfort herself with the thought that
he had (luite lost the idea of being an engine ilriver,
and would perliajis keep to the farm after all. In the
last week of January Itig John Cameron found it neces-
sary to be absent from Cameron's Clearing for about
two days, as he had some important matters to look
after in the village of .Anfigonish, six miles away, so he
went off, leaving Sandy in sole charge.

"Take good care of mother and the stock, lad,"
was Mr. Cameron's parting injunction; "and mind,
don't you go gallivanting off into the woods on those
Indian concerns, for if you t ."t lost there'll be nobody
to go after you. ' '

t;'i:

■itn^

tQC)

SANDY CAMERON TO THE RESCUl-

"Never you fear, father," replied Sandy, "Til stay
around home the wl'.olc time yi.u're away," and feel--
iug proud of his rcsponsib!'.' i>ositi..n, for he was only
fifteen, the young chap went wlusthng up tlvj path into
the house as his father disappeared down the road, and
clasping his motluT around the waist, said jokingly,
" Now then, mother, you're in my eare for two whole
days, so you must just be a good girl, and do every-
thing I tell you."

'J-hat was on Thursday, and the day went by un-
eventfully, Sandy faithfully attending to his duties at
the barn and in the house. But on Friday came a
heavy snowstorm, which made poor Sandy's back ache
merely to look at it. How the snow did come down !
just as if it ha 1 not put in an ap})earance before that
winter and was trying to make up for lost time. With
the snow was a roaring wind which drove it madly
hither and thither and piled it up in flmtastic wreaths
and drifts, burying the road, the teiices, the pump, and
threatening to bury the barn into the bargain. Ml day
long the snow fell and the wind raged and all night too.

Saturday morning dawned and the storm showed no

signs of abating.

"I hope that your father won't try to come home

to-day," said Mrs. Cameron anxiously, peering out of

the win.low that looked toward the road. "They

don't CN n seem to think of trying to run the trains.

There hasn't been a train since yesterday afternoon,

has there, Sandy? "

"No, mother; I guess there's too much snow on

RESCUE

Sandy, "I'll stay
away," and feel-
I, for he was only
^r iiji tlvj i)ath into
Dwn tlic road, and
list, said jokingly,
uire for two whole
irl, and do every-
day went by nn-
g to his duties at
on r'riday came a
Sandy's back ache
V did come down !
irance before that
;)r lost time. With
;h dxove it madly
n fantastic wreaths
ces, the pump, and
e bargain. All day
d and all night too.
; storm showed no

try to come home
isly, peering out of
the road. ' ' 'i'hey
; to run the trains,
'esterday afternoon,

too much snow on

SANDY C\MKK(JN TO THE KI':SCUE

197

the track even for the big ))low. No fear of fatlier
starting till the storm's all over," he added (hcerlull).

Late that afternoon Sandy was standing by the iVoiil
window tr\ ing hard to des. ry t!ie railroad trac k through
the blinding mist of snow, when he joyfully i'\( lainied :

■•Uh, mother, here's father loming up the path now,
and he can hardly get along, the snow is so deep !"

Whereupon they both rushed to the door ami, throw-
ing it open, welcomed — not Mr. Cameron, but -Mr.
Abbott, who lU) sooner got inside than he threw him-
self into a chair utterly exhausted.

It was a few moments before he was able to sjjcak,
and when he did speak, this was what he had to say :
The down train, witii three engines and a snow-jtlow,
was buried in a tremendous drift right in the center of
Deep Valley. It had been stuck there ever since Fri-
day afternoon and the passengers were in a<;tual i)eril
from both hunger and cold. Word must be carried to
Antigonish that night and relief obtained, or lives would
certainly be lost. Two hours ]irevioiisly he had set out
fr,im the train intending to be the messenger himself,
but in struggling through the deep snow had strained
himself so severely that he c juld not possibly go any
farther. He seemed very much com crned when told
of Pag John's absence, for he had counted ui)on him
to wo on to .Vntigonish in his stead.

For a minute he sat silent, as if revolving something
in his mind ; then suddenly his face lightened and
turning to the boy beside hiu; he grasped him by the
arm, saying earnestly :

198

SANDY CAMERON Li) THE KESCUE

"I have it ! Put on your snow-shoes, Sandy, and
make fur the village as fast as you can go. It will be
twenty-five dollars in your pocket if you get word there
to-night. I'll stay with your mother till you come back.''

Now Sandy was about as big and brave a boy for fif-
teen as coukl be found in the whole country, but the
prospect of a six-mile tramp through the snowstorm
with night so near at hand was enough to make a big-
ger and braver fellow than Sandy pause. His mother
too shrank from the risk, but Mr. Abbott would not be
put off This seemed his only chance for rescue, and
he pleaded with Sandy and argued with his mother
until at last he wrung a relu'^^'^nt consent from both.
So. after fortifying himself with a hearty supper. Sandy
strapi)ed his snow-shoes to his feet and fared sturdily
forth into the storm, Mr. Abbott's hearty " C.ood luck
to you !" and his mother's anxious " Ciodkeep you !"
following him as Ik ran down the i)ath to the gate.

Now just what had Sandy u:idertaken ? Six miles of
deep, drifted snow lay betwee i him and his destination.
Although the storm had sonn:vhat abated as the after-
noon waned, the snow still sifted down and the wind
blew shari)ly. Hardly an i'.o-.ir of da>light was left,
and the journey woukl take him two hours at least.
Moreover, his route ran through dense woods nearly
all the way. and if anything hajipened to him there
would not be t' ': slightest hope of assistance. 'There
seemed but one thing in his favor, namely, tl \t by fol-
lowing the railroad he could hartlly go astray, and pos-
sibly he might meet a relief party coming up the line.

KSCUK

oes, Sandy, and
go. It will be
1 get word there
oil come back.''
ive a boy for fif-
;onntry, but the

the snowstorm

to make a big-
;e. His mother
3tt would not be

for rescue, and
vith his mother
isent from both.
ty supper, Sandy
id fared sturdily
rty " Ciood luck
lod.keep you I "

to the gate,
n ? Six miles of
1 his destination,
ated as the after-
vn and the wind
laylight was left,
D hours at least.
ise woods nearly
ed to him there
distance. 'I'here
nely, tV at by fol-
) astray, and i)os-
ling up the line.

SANDY C.\MERON TO TIIK KK.SCUE

199

All these things were present in Sandy's mind as,
bending his head lo.v to screen his face from the wind,
and swinging his arms to and fro in time with his stride,
he cpiickly disappeared from siglu, while his mother re-
tired to her room to pray that no harm might befall her
boy, and that he might succeed in his dangerous under-
taking.

For the fust mile or so Sandy could think of nothing
but the reward Mr. Abbott had offered, which seemed
simply magnificent to him, \n!io had never had a whole
dollar of his own before. What a lot of wonderful
things he would be able to ilo with twenty-five dollars !
Such presents as he would buy for father and mother !
Such a gun for himself !

Presently, however, as the dusk deepened and the tall
trees cast dark shadows upon his path his snirils fell,
and he began to wish he had already reached his
journey's end. He was not naturally timid, but what
boy's nerves would not have trembled more than a
little if he were in Sandy's plac^ ? It was by no means
easy walking either, even on snow-shoes, for, tormented
by the tireless wind, the snow, instead of lying smooth
and level, had heaped itself up in billows and twisted
into curious wreaths which often broke treacherously
under Sandy's shoes and more than once sent him
headlong. Neither bears nor wolves were known to be
in the vicinity; but who can blame the lonely boy when
night fell upon him, if a great jagged stump left by the
railroad builders seemed so hke a bear croiuhing to
spring upon him that he fairly froze with fright and

200

SANDY CAMKKON TO TH|-. RKSCUE

darted past at llic Ui\> of liis speed, or il" the soughing
and sighing of the winii through the pine trees startled
liim witii tear, bei anse it sounded so like the horrid
howl of distant wolves?

llelore he iiad gone half-way the real diffinilties and
imagined terrors of his situation so possessed hini that
he a(tually turned to retrace his steps, feeling as though
a hundred dollars would not tempt him a step farther,
when suddenly Mr. Abbott's words flashed across his
mind. " I'nless helji is brought to-night, lives will cer-
tainly be lost," and he cheeked himself He thought
of the cars filled with passengers, men, women, and
children, enduring cold and hunger, and his brave
young heart throbbed with sympathy for them.

They vvere dei)ending upon him, though they did
not know it. and .Mr. .Abbott was depending upon him
too, Mr. Abbott, wiio had been so kind to him, who
had caused him so many hajipy hours by giving him
the snow-shoes, the very shoes he now had upon his
feet. How could he go bai'k to him and confess he had
not dared to carry his message ? For quite five min-
utes the conflict between courage and cowardice, dread
and duty, waged in Sandy's breast. Now he would
take a fe\,' steps homeward, then wheel about and face
the other way. Never will he forget that unseen
struggle through whi(-h he jjassed alone in the very
heart of the ^\■est Woods on that wild winter's night.
At length his better nature cjn(]uered. (lod helping
him. he would carry his message, and with renewed
energy he set his face fixedly toward Antigonish.

'iiCUE

it" the soughing
le trees startled
like the horrid

diffirnlties and
iessed liim that
'eliug as tliough
1 a step farther,
slied across his
it. lives will cer-
f". He thought
n. women, and

and his brave
r them.

nough they did
nding upon him
nd to him, who
i by giving him
V had upon his
1 confess he had

quite five min-
owardice, dread

Now he would
I about and face
et that unseen
)ne in the very
1 winter's night.
Cod helping
d with renewed
ntigonish.

SANDY CAMKKON TO THE RESCUE

;oi

Now came the hardest i)art of that memorable jour-
ney. Already feeling the effects of his e.xctions, and
Iniding it very difticult, moreover, to keep going straight
forward amid such darkness, he nevertheless plodded
on resolutely, shutting his ears against the howling wind
and refusing to see anything but common stumps in the
dark, mysterious objects which sprawled ujion the snow
to right and left. 'I'ramp, tramj), tramp, on he went,
head bent low and hands swinging. .Another mile and
yet another of the billowy snow slipped behind him
until there was but one mile left, and soon he would
be clear of the darksome woods. The thought of this
gave strength to his limbs as he wearily toiled along.

Jhit what was the matter with his hands? 'I'hey had
been feeling cold for some time past, for the snow had
gotten into his mittens every time he fell, but now they
seemed to have no feeling at all. Surely they were
not frozen I (lod help him if he were to fall now!
He could never get on his feet again. How careful
must he be then ! Ihit lieing careful meant being slow.
Oh, was this awful tramp never going to end? Step by
step, cautiously but steadily Sandy pushed ahead, every
nerve and muscle at their highest tension, his whole
being centered in the one supreme thought, not to fall
until .Kntigonish was reached. He felt as though hours
must have passed since he started. Once and again the
treacherous snow breaking under him caused him to
stumble and his heart stood still for fear. But fortu-
nately he recovered himself in time.

At length a turn in the road revealed the lights ot

■ if

202 SANDY CAMERON TO lUK KK.SCl'K

Antigonish half a mile away, and he knew that those
dreadful woods were nearly past. Rea. hing tlie clearing
a minute later he gave a shout of joy and (luickened
his pace. The going was better now, for the wind,
having had free play upon the track, had beaten the
snow down s;.ioothly. and Sandy ran no risk of falling.
'Ihe lights were drawing near, only a ciuarter of a
mile remained. Summoning all his energies for one
last effort, he broke into a run and never slackened his
pace until, bursting open the door t.f the station agent's
office, he fell fainting on the floor, frightening the agent
l,y his sudden and startling appearance. His faint
,,uickly passed away, however, and he told his story.
Without a moment's delay a relief party was organized.
Toboggans loaded with meat and bread and crackers
and cheese and coffee, and drawn by stalwart men on
snow-shoes, set out for the buried train with, its starving
passengers, and seated upon the foremost toboggan,
snugly wrapped in a big biifllilo robe, Sandy Cameron,
the hero of the hour, rode triumphantly homeward.

When Mr. Abbott told the passengers how much
they owed to a boy's bravery, they filled his hands
with money to show Sandy that they were not ungrate-
ful The railway company too rewarded him substan-
tially while the fame of 1 is exploit filled the neighbor-
hood' for many a day thert^ fter. Also his hands were
not really frozen, so that .le was not only none the
worse, but very much the better for what he dared
to do that night the down train was snowed in at Deep
Valley.

CUE

lew that those
ig the clearing
md (}uickencd
for the wind,
lad beaten tlie
risk of falling.
I (jiiarter of a
ergies for one
r slackened his
station agent's
jning the agent
ce. His faint
told his story,
was organized,
ul and crackers
talwart men on
vith its starving
nost toboggan,
andy Cameron,
y homeward.
;ers how much
illed his hands
!re not iingrate-
d him substan-
d the neighbor-
his hands were
only none the
what he dared
)wed in at Deep

■P^

.VV, Hal. let's
/ go and see
' them dynamit-
ing tlie ice."
" W h e r e is it.
and what's dyna-
miting, anyway? "

■' Wiiy, over there

behind the rai 1 way

biidge they're blowing tip the

■'J'"^,'' ice with dynamite, a kind of

K> _r powtler. you know, only ten times

worse, fath<.'r sa\s. Must be fun to see it
going off. Come along ; a 1 t of the fellows
have gone over already. "

"All right, Ned. Just hold on until T put my
books in the house, and then I'm with you."

The schoolbooks having been disposed of. the two
boys hurried away to the railway bridge.

The Rideau River had risen, overllowed its banks,
and invaded the village of New Kdinburgh. Running
streams too deep to cross e.xcept in boats had taken

203

.MP"'

204

SAVED ON TUK liKINK

the place of streets ; instead of yards the people looked
out upon muildy ponds in wliose swirling waters chips,
logs, boxes, and barrels lloated abont. and only the build
ings' stood al)ove the water; all else in that neighbor-
hood was submerged. Hal Roberts who. in comiiany
with the • lUulieys." had just bei-n playing Venice,
thought that all New I'ldinburgh now needed was a half-
dozen gondolas anil a Hoge's pahu e to be a little
Veniec on her own account.

To Hal and Ned the Hood seemed fine fun. espe-
cially as, their homes being on the high ground, they
were not made uncomfortable by it. and the) watc;hed
its progress with great interest. I'or a whole week the
water had been steadily rising, as the hot spring sun-
shine bla/.ed away at the immense snowdrifts which lay
along the river banks. Had it not been for the ice,
the water would have run off all right and gone roar-
ing and splashing over the Rideiu Falls into the broad

Ottawa.

P.ut the ice was so thick and solid that it melted
slowly, and the river bed being full of it. the water was
(piite dammed up and could not get away. At last
some bright person had thought of blowing up this ice
barrier with dynamite, and the jxjor Hooded folk, eager
to try anything, had jumped at the idea and were i-ut-
ting it into execution.

\ number of men were at work when, breathless
with running, Hal and Ned ai)peared ui)on the scene.
'I'his was the way they went about it : With long, sharp
crowbars they drilled a deep hole into the ice-floes some

:.i.\VKD ON TUK liKINK

J05

people looked

r waters cliips,
only the build
liat luiglihor-
). ill ( ()mi>any
layinj^ Neiiice,
(led was a liall-
to be a little

Hie I'un, espe-
1 grouiul. tliey
1 tliey watclied

liole week the
lu)t sprini^ sun-
Irifts wliich lay
:n for the ice,
:\nd gone roar-

into the broad

that it melted
, the water was
away. At last
king up this ice
)cle(! folk, eager
1 and were i-ut-

lien. breathless
ipon the scene.
\'ith long, sharp
ic ice-floes some

distance from the edge ; the dynamite ( artridge was
slippeil cautiously in with the detonator and fuse at-
tached, and then eserybody having made off to a safe
distance, the < harge was exploded ; a dull, heavy (on-
cussion fdled the r ; the i( e sprang high out of the
water and fell ba(k in fragments, and great cracks
shuwetl themselves in the once soliil ice-field. .Alter
that the men had only to push and pry a little in order
to send huge i)ieres off into the current that was rush-
ing fiercely down its confined passage, where they were
borne rapidly along until they leaped over the falls into
the Ottawa below.

Intent and excited the two boys watched the work
for some time, crcnvding in close when the holes were
being driven, taking a last ]ieep at the cartridge that
looked so innocent but could do so much damage, as
the man slipped it carefully into place, then scampering
off to a safe distance on the warning being given, and
shouting with dehght when the exjjlosion took place
and the ice splintered up into fragments with a rattling
crash. 'J'hcn as the great jagged calces were detac hed
from the main body and sent sailing away, the boys
would follow them down a ways, each selecting one and
playing at racing with it until it was time to get back
for the next explosion.

Hal was so delighted with the proceedings that he
could have watched them the whole a''*t ■ loon ; but Ned
soon began to tire and to cast about lor some variation
in their amusement. Now there was not a more rash,
headstrong boy in the whole village than Ned Arm-

206

SAVKt) ON THE liRINK

Strong; no other ringleader in feats of daring or mis-
chief was needed when he made one of tiie crowd,
'i'his afiernoon as he walilied the big i< e calies lloating
so smoothly and switUy down the c urrent, it Hashed
into his mind how jolly it would be to hase a ride on
one of them ! What a sjilendid raft it would make !
In view of the danger, any ordinary boy would not have
entertained the idea for a moment. It was nothing
short (jf madness. ]iut Ned was not an ordinary l)oy.
You could harilly have offended him more than by
hinting that he was ; to be out of the ordinary was his
pride and delight.

" Say, Hal," he burst out suddenly, "I've got it—
the best fim yon ever had in your life."

'What is it?" asked Hal eagerly.

"Why. to have a ride on one of tho.se takes. It'll
be a first-class circus."

"Chnt! Ned. You wouldn't dare try that !"

"Just wouldn't I? Come along! We'll stand on
that point until a big one comes by and then jump on.
We can jump off again when we like, you know."

So saying, Ned .\rmstrong ran out to a point where
the current fumed the corner, as it were, and the cakes
in ])assing rubbed dose against it so that there was no
difficulty in getting on one. Partly carried away by his
comi)anion's example and partly in hopes of dissuading
him from his foolhardy project Hal, who was a rather
cautious, prudent lad, followed closely, and in another
moment they were standing together on the point with
the great ice cakes whirling past at their very feet

daring or mis-
o( the crowd.
.■ cakes ll outing
■cnt, it (laslicd
have a ride on
: would malcc !
would not have
ll was nothing
1 ordinary boy.
more than by
rdinary was his

"I've got it—

se cakes. It'll

ry that !"
We'll stand on

then jump on.
ou know."
3 a jjoint where
e, and the cakes
at there was no
ried away by his
ics of dissuading
ho was a rather

and in another
11 the point with
r very feet.

SAVED ON TfJE IIRINK

207

" Now then. I lal ! " ( ried Ned. " We'll ea( h jump
on one anil have a race in dead earnest. We can jump
off, you know, before wo come to the road bridge."

"No, no, Ned I It's too dangerous," urgeil Hal,
now realizing the folly of the thing. " Let's gi; bac ' "

"Tut, man, you're afraid; you've got no pluck."

"I've plenty of pluck, Ned; you needn't say that.
Hut I'ui not going to make a fool of myself," returned
Hal warmly.

" Who's a fool? Come along — if you're not a
coward," cried Ned. growing angry too.

"I won't, Ned. and you sha'n't cither, if I can help
it," and suiting his action t(j his word. Hal caught hold
of Ned's arm.

" Just you take your hands off me, softy — I'm off '.
Vou can go home to your mother," sneered Ned, and
breaking away from his companion, he sprang out uium
a huge cake which just then rubbed .against the point
and went careening down the current, exclaiming boast-
fidly, " How is this for fun?"

Completely t.aken aback at Ned's sudden action, Hal
stood motionless for a moment, gazing ui)on his jilay-
mate speeding along to what he felt sure was certain
de.ath. Then full of fear, he ran over the ice after
him, calling out :

" Ned, Ned, jump off ! You'll go over the falls ! "

But Ned's only answer was to take off his hat and
swing it around his head with a shout :

"Hurrah for the ice-ship 1 What a time we arc
having 1 "

2o8

SAVED ON rilK riRINK

Undor tlu- dark ar.h of \hv railway liridnc and out
ui).)n tlio olluT hide, tlu- nv < aki' wilii it» liu.li^li fniglu
nihlicd rapidly, its »i>ccd iiK n-asiLg every minute.
Soon it reached the broad exi>anse between the railway
and the ruad hridges, and Hal. who was doing his best
to keep up. noted with increasetl alarm thai it kept
well out in the middle of the ( urreiU, so that it was im-
possible for Ned to jump off, try as hard as he might.
All at once Ned aiijiarently noticed this too, and began
to show signs of alarm, running from side to side of the
swa)ing ice raft, and anxiousl;' measuring the distance
between it and the border-ice. Just beside the road
bridge there was an eddy «hero tie water curleil about
the shore abutment. If the ice cake only got into that
eddy its passenger would be safe.

Ned's danger had now become known, and the shore
was lined with people watching his perilous voyage and
shouting to him all sorts of ailvice. One man, insleail
of wasting time in giving advice, procured a long rope
and, going out to the extreme edge of the stationary
ice, flung it toward Ned, who grasped frantically at it ;
but it fell short, and the cake went on its way more
rapidly than ever.

The road bridge drew near, but the ice cake still
kept well out in the center of the current, and there
seemed small chance of its getting into the eddy.
I-'rantic with fear. Ned Armstrong seized his hat and
using it as a paddle made desperate efforts to guide his
clumsy craft toward this only haven of safety. I5ut he
might as well have tried to send it back against the re-

ill'

.SAVKD ON Tlir; IiKrNK

;o9

iridic anil out
s r<)ulij>li fnij^hl

every mimitc.
ccn the railway
s doing his best
ni llial it kept
) liiat it was iin-
J as he might.

too, and began
ie to side of the
ng the distance
jeside the road
ter I iirleil about
illy got into that

n. and the shore

ilotis voyage and
ne man, instead
red a long rope
if the stationary
frantically at it ;
on its way more

he ice cake still
rrent, and there

into the eddy,
/ed his hat and
'orts to guide his

safety. But he
k. against the re-

sistless ( urrent. The ponderous ii e bint k utterly re-
fused to be guided, it went steadfaMly on its way.
dipi)ing and rising as the surface of the water bn.kc up
into turbulent whirls with the ai>iir<iarh to the falls,
whose sidicti roar began to make itself distindly heard.

In aiiotlier miiiuto the road bridge would be readied
and realizing that it was the last ( h. nice tiie in.m ulin
had the i\)\n- ran with all his might toward the span
under whii li the < ake must pass in order to try another
(ling. Had lie been oidy a few seconds sooner he
might have succeeded, but he was just that mm h too
late ; and again the rope fell short, althougli Ned
nearly finnliled off tiie ice in liiseager endeavor l< scdire
it. A shout of horror went ii]) from the jieople who
lined the river banks and i rowded the bridge, ga/ing
heljilessly at the iinhappv lad sweciiing so swiftly on.

Metween the bridge and the falls tiiere now remained
only an ojien space, scarce more than one hundred vards
in Ijngth, in whirli tJie waters, as if rebelling against
the leap before tiiem. broke forth into angry foam-
crested waves in whose midst the low-lying ice rait was
tossed and tumbled about so that the boy upon it had
hard work to keep erect. Half paralyzed with tenor, he
stood there in the sight of hundreds of his fellows rea-
tures, not one of whom could interpose between liim
and death — a sight to wring the stoutest heart. ( )ne
instant more and he would take the awful plunge !

But stay ! A shout goes up from the agonizeil spec-
tators. Who is it tliat comes springing with tremen-
dous strides across the frail-looking structure vvhicii

210 SAVED ON THE BRINK

spans the river at the very edge of the falls? The
n.,.log bridge- they call it, because ,n summer
tilvhc^theLrisluw,anunderport,ondamsup

he water so that the n.ill wheels may be well supph •
In freshet time the furious swollen streau. r.ses to a fc
feet from the top, and it is along this na-rowioou.)

:hat a man. who is at once recognized as • b.g Alec
the stalwart foreman of the mill, is now seen rushu g _
The ice caKe dashes swiftly toward the "sto,.lg^

Snt Big Ale<-. is .pucker. He reaches the spot nght
:d^'thich the clue must pass in its heacUong^^^^^^^

he flings hin^self face downward on the beams he
"ns far over the edge, his long sinewy arms stretched
o their utmost length. Straight toward hnn comes
he ice cake. He shouts fercely. Ned. looking up,
sees him and understands. He turns to face hnn, and
just as the shadow of the bridge falls upon the .ce, he
:.s all his strength into one wild leap toward he. ou^^^

tretched arms. He does not m.ss them-he s caught
t in their iron grip-R.r one aw.a moment h^swa^

above the raging torrent and the spectators hold thur

llth in sickening apprehension ; then w,th a g.gan Uc

e t rt l'.ig Alec swings the boy clear up upon the

Ige a,!d stands beside him treml^^ng ur every i^rve

and muscle, while a shout that ..:..:.. ^:e roar of the

falls uoes up from the overjoyed on-lookers.

one of the flrst to be at Ned Armstrong's s.de was
Hal Roberts, the tears of joy streaming down h,s c-^.eeks
Z he threw his arms around his playmate who had thus
been saved on the very brink.

iil

the falls? The
ausc in summer
portion dams u\)
be well supplied,
.-aui rises to a few
is na-row footway
d as •• r>ig Alec,"
nv seen rushing.
[ the "stop-log,"
les the spot right
ts headlong rush ;
II the beams ; he
;\vy arms stretched
oward him comes

Ned, looking up,
s to face him, and,
s upon the ice, he
a\) toward the out-
them— he is caught
il moment he sways
)ectators hold their
then with a gigantic
;lear up upon the
.'inif in every nerve
uL - e roar of the
-lookers.

Armstrong' s side was
iiing down his cheeks
lymate who had thus

r^^^

rROFKSSOR, won't yo- juin
oursi<alin^ part)- to-morrow?
We intend lo go up as far as
i5anksi(le. I'he riser is a per-
fect sheet of giass, they sa\'
Nearly all liie (lass are gcjiui,'
and we wduUI like so mut;h
to have you take us in charge I"
exclaimed Charlie Unrd. all in one
lueatli. as he somewhat iinccreuiori-
ously broke in upon the iiniet of Pro-
fessor Owen's study one Friday evening in Decem-
ber just after winter had settled ujjon the land.

Tile boys all likjd the jjrofessor. even if he diii in-
sist witli a lirmness that knew no compromise 'jion
their mastering the exact relations between '-a" and
" -x " and being able to cross the " .\sses' liridge"
without falling over. As the new professor of mathe-
matics at Elmwood College he had rapidly won the af-
fection not less than the respect of the students by

211

JI3 THE PROFESSOk'S l^Vsr SKATK

being not only a thorough teacher, but also a leader in
,11 their athletic exercises, taking his ,art ,n cncket
'football, rowing, and other sports with a boy.sh v.m and
,,„,,,H,g sum tl.at uKuie hin. quite a luro an.ong Im

,,,,,i,s. The game never seemed to them so hvely as
llL Sidney Owen, throwing aside his im>^s.onalse

verity wUh his official gown, ranged hnnself on the
weakest .ide and went so vigorously to work as to be a
good match tor any two of the other players.
' When, therefore. Charlie ll.ru. with a precp-tat on
for which he feU bound to •.pck.gi/e, mterrupted the
Xor'-eading that wintc: evening he a..y counted

'on a favorable reply to his breathless re.iuest. A
' fessor who could bat. bowl, kic.k. dodge, run, and
Lv like theirs n.ust certa.nly be able to skate also, and
the next day being Saturday, the <lass had arranged U,
spend their half-holiday in skating up the xiver to bank-
's de-a good six nnles as the crow tlies-com.ng bac.
i, time for dinner with appetites worthy of the anc.cnt
Norsen.en. The ice was reported perfect, the weather
seemed propitu.us. the only thing lacking to make he
programnte complete was that the professor should lead
them ,n their ringing race up tlte river, now g eammg
so invitingly between its tree-clad banks, and the boys
felt pretty <-,onf!dent of securing this.

But to t:harlie's great disappointment Professor Owen
shook his head decidedly, saying that he never skated
now The recp.cst also seemed to awaken some pamful
recollections, lor after giving his answer he sat for some
moments looking into the fire in silence. Ihen sud-

iATK

also a leader in

(lurt in cricket,
a boyish vim and

Ikto among his
licni so lively as
s professional se-
1 himself on the
I work as to be a
i)layers.

th a precipitation
.', interrupted the
^. he fully counted
hless retpiest. A
, dodge, run, anil

to skate also, and
,s had arranged to
the xiver to liank-
lits — coming ba( k
•thy of the ancient
erfect, the weather
eking to make the
Mfessor should lead
■iver, now gleaming
inks, and the boys

lent Professor Owen
lat he never skated
L waken some painful
uvcr he sat for some
silence. Then sud-

THR professor's LAST SKATE

213

deiily arousing himself tiie professor told his crestfallen

visitor tiiat if he cared to listen he woiikl explain why

although he had been passionately fond of skating oiu e
— he had not put on skates for more than six vears
past. 'I'iiis was the professor's story :

•' When 1 was in my senior year at Dalhousie Uni-
versity, which, as perhajjs you know. Charlie, is not far
from a great chain of lakes stretdiing one beyond the
other far \i\) into the country, 1 went out one .Saturday
afternoon for a long skate, inteniling to go as far as the
head of the third lake at all events. My c hum had
promised to come with me. but unfortunately broke
one of his spring skates in putting them on, and had to
turn ba(k. '1 he afternoon was altogether too fine to
be wasted, so I set off alone, hojjing to jiick up a com-
panion on the way. A better day for a gocxl long skate
could not have been wished. i'he air was keen and
bracing; the sunlight flashed merrily bad from the
glittering i)osom of the lake ; and as I laun( hed out from
the shore I felt as though my muscles were made of
steel and my bones of brass and thai 1 could never tire.
"'I"he first lake was dotted all over with circling .skat-
ers in groups and couples, the sharp ring of the steel
and the joyous voices of the wearers vibratuig through
the air all annuul me. The wind blew smartly down
the lake, but I did not mind that and, being fresh,
made good tim.e up to its head where a quid dash over
the thin ice in the run between the lakes took me out
into the open again. Much to my disappointment I
had seen no one whom I cared to ask to join me.

214

■rilK I'KOFESSOR'S I.AST SKATE

.^A short breathing spcU and Uvas off agamwuh
four miles of superb u:c lying b.^.rcn.e. ana a uos^ a I

,, „,seh: Few .Waters had ventured be)oud the r .
1 Jing low. so as to .resent as httle n.uk as ,oss c

Un the wind, which had Ireshened — ^'^j'^' J ^
along exulting in the glorious exer. nse and shout ng
llloud a.r ve;y delight. One by one the lo.. nu^s
swiftly slipped behind me. Soon the upper end - H
seco,^ lake drew near. lU. the pa. e now be^
tell upon me a little, so on arrivmg at the top I resud

.while in a sheltered eove before assaihng lake nmube
three, whieh was reached through a narrow cut where a

canal had been once upon a time

Not a living creature, bird or beast, broke the ma-
jestic solitude of this great glassy expanse as 1 stoou
upon its verge. I'or a moment 1 felt tenn.ted to leave
^Led^yn^y intrusive skates. Hut I h.ul come to
con.iuer it and there n^.st be no turning back now.

>. 15y the time these last three lonely m.les were cov-
ered my muscles clamored unmistakably for rest, so
Le;m;se:^ down on a bank of moss where the .u..d

could not .a.t rt .ne. lit my pipe, and puffed a«ay
peacefully until the setting sun plainly hinted that ,t was
fjt me to be pushing homeward if I would reach the
l:!tofthe.Jlakebef;.redark. Witi^ t'--;^ 'j^
,,,owinglv strongly at my ba. k I sped down 1 .ce
reveling in what seemed the very luxury <.f motu.n I
had scarcely more to do than lift and gu.de my fl-e t
The wind supplied the motive power, and mile alter
mile of flawless ice flew pas, me with msp.r.ng speed.

CATE

IS off again with
c, ami almost all
laxoiul the run.
mark as i)OSsiblc
onrcwhat, 1 sped
isc ami shouting
e the four nnlcs
ujiiicr end of the
(0 now began to
Uk' top 1 rested
iling lake number
arrow cut where a

ist. broke the ma-
spanse as I stood

tempted to leave
P.ut 1 had <ome to
ling back now.
L'ly miles were cov-
kably for rest, so I
)ss where the wind

and puffed away
ly hinted that it was
■ 1 would reach the
With the wind now
peel down thj ice,
xury of motion. I
and guide my feet,
wer, ami mile after
iih inspiring speed.

THE PROFESSOR'.S LAST SKATE

215

The third lake was soon left to its former solitude.
Dashing through the canal I shot out on the sei ond,
determined to win my ra<:e with the daylight.

" 1 had gone about half-way down the lake when my
evil genius suggested skating backward a little while for
a change, and still further \ rompted me to try the
'locomotive.' You know, 1 supi)ose, t'harlie, what
an intricate and rapid step that is. Well. I had just
reached full speed at it, and my skates were rattling
over the hard ice like a pair of castanets, w hen suddenly
a wicked little piece of wood firndy ind)edded in the
ice, caught one of my blades ; a sickening thrill of ap-
prehension (juivered through me, and then in a flash 1
was hurled upon my back, my legs tangled uy together,
and my head striking the ice with a terrible thud that
sent me into unconsciousness.

" It must have been at least five minutes before my
senses cai^e back to me, and several minutes more
before I could think dearly enough to realize what had
happened. My first impulse was of course to regain my
feet, but on attempting to do so an awful pang of
agonizing pain shot up from my right leg just above the
ankle and I almost became un<:onscious again. ' Can
it be possible,' I thought, ' that my leg is broken ? '

"Just picture my position to yourself, Charlie. Two
miles yet to the foot of the lake ; not a soul within
sight or hearing ; the darkness coming on rapidly ; the
cold steadily increasing — what else could a broken leg
mean than a dreadful lingering death? And my leg
was broken ! Clean and sharp just above the ankle,

THE professor's LAST SKATE

,C i

tlic bone had been snapped by the violence of my fall.
The sliglUest movement gave uie exiiuciating pain.
Utterly bewildered, 1 at tirsl shouted madly at the top
of my voice in the poor hope that some belated skater
might possibly be witiiin hearing ; but no answer came
back to me save the mocking e( ho of my own cries.
There was clearly no chance of human aid.

'•To save my life I must solve the tremendous prob-
lem of getting over several miles of ice with my right
let^ worse than useless. As a fu'st essay at the solution
of tliis problem 1 tried rolling over and over toward the
kind. The agony was too dreadful ; the progress
accomplished was almost imperceptible, 'i'hen I at-
tempted to wriggle along upon my stomach, using my
arms much as a seal would its flippers under similar cir-
cumstances. lUit I gave this up in despair after making
a few yards' headway. Only one e.\i)edivnt now re-
mained to me. That fiiiling, 1 might resign myself
hopelessly to the death which hovered so near. It was
to get upon my hands and knees, and disregarding
the fearful suffering involved, crawl along in that way as
fast as i)ossiblc. Adopting this plan I found to my
great delight, that my progress was very encouraging,
while the torture, intense ;is you can easily understand
it was, did not seem much worse than when lying still.
"So I toiled onward through the deeiicning dark-
ness, pausing often for a rest, growing steadily weaker,
but i)ersevering with the grim energy of one who fights
for his life, until at length after what seemed intermin-
able hours, hours whose supreme suffering can never be

CATE

lencc of my full,
iiuciating pain,
iiadly al the tDp
le bclattd skater
no answer came
if my own cries.

aid.

•emendous prob-
ce with my right
Y at the solution
1 over toward the
1 ; the progress
•le. 'ihen I at-
omach, using my
under similar cir-
pair after making
peditnt now re-
lit resign myself

so near. It was
and disregarding
)ng in that way as

I found to my
,ery encouragiiig,
easily understand

when lying still.

deepening dark-
; steadily weaker,
of one who fights
seemed intermin-
ring can never be

THE PROKE.SSOR's LAST .SKATE

21'^

forgotten, I reached the bottom of the lake. Dragging
myself up on the shore for a brief halt, I thanked (lod
that I had fouglit off death tiius far at all events.

"The thought gave me courage, and as 1 lay prone
enjoying the few minutes' resjjite, the dear oitl moon
showed iier kindly silver face above the crest of the iiili
before me, and poured a Hood of welcome iiglit over
the distance yet to be traversed iiefore I could count
upon obtaining human aid. Full of hope 1 slipjied
down to the ice again, and resumed my pilgrimage.
Ah ! Charlie, imagine my horror when I found myself
so chilled and exhausted as to be entirely unable to
make even a hundred yards. There were nearly three
miles yet ahead of me ! After having fought so well it
seemed too cruel altogether that 1 should fail when
aliTiost within sight of succor.

"Lying on my back, with my face upturned to the
stars (lashing like diamonds through the pure air, I be-
sought the (lod who set them there not to abandon me
now. My limbs had long been chilled to the bone,
and the chill now began to creep into my vitals ; so
cold had I become that the broken leg hardly pained
me at all. The languor which precedes death by freez-
ing, stole sweetly over my senses. Once I lapsed into
unconsciousness, but revived, and was again drifting
away, when a familiar whistle, coming from the shadows
of the eastern shore, pierced shrilly through the air.

"Rousing myself by a tremendous effort I sat up
and shouted for help with all my remaining strength.
To my indescribable joy I caught an answering call.

2l8

THE professor's LAST SKATE

and then a stalwart skater dashed out of tlie dark shad-
ows of the liill and < anie toward me at topmost speed.
In another moment he was bending over me with a fare
as full of joy and glad relief as my own ; for who was it,
Charhe. but my faithfid (hum who. missing me from
the dinner table, had become anxious, and borrowing
a pair of skates set off in sean h of me ? i^'-xhausted as
I was, 1 just had time to murmur, ' My '«-'« '^ broken,'
before fainting dead away.

"When half an hour later I eame to myself. I was
lying comfortably on a mattress in the bottom of an ex-
press wagon, well wrapped up in warm blankets, and
my dear old chum sitting close beside me waiting
impatiently for the first sign ol returning consciousness.
As 1 looked up intpiiringly, he moli(jned me to silence,
the tears brimming his eyes as he whispered ; ' It was a
close call, dear boy, but thank (lod. old Charon won't
have you for a passenger this trip.'

" I afterward learned that in order to get me to land
he had to cut down a small spruce tree and lash me to
it with two long straps he fortunately hai)i)ened to have
at hand, on which rude litter he drew me gently to the
foot of the lake. There a wagon was easily procured,
and the rest of the homeward journey soo accom-
plished. What with the broken leg. the long exposure
to the cold, and the terrible strain to which both nerves
and muscles had been subjected, cri( ket had taken the
place of skating before I was myself again.

" So, Charlie, if 1 do disappoint you by not joining
you to-morrow, you will admit I have a good reason."

;ate

r tlio dark shad-
topinost Sliced.
.T nic witli a fai c
; tor who was it,
nissing mc from
, and l)()rro\viiig
? l';xliaustcd as
y leg is l)roken,'

to myself. I was
bottom of an ex-
in l)lankets, and
side nie waiting
ig consciousness,
ed me to silence,
pered ; 'It was a
)ld Charon won't

to get me to land
c and lash me to
happened to have
me gently to the
s easily procured,
ney soo accom-
the long exposure
which both nerves
ket had taken the
igain.

ou by not joining
e a good reason."

P IJOVS of Massawijipi looked

^ ujion the big mill pond as

one of their very liest friends.

In the hot da)s of summer tiiey dived

into its (lark depths in (|uest of ((uiiness

or voyaged over its jiiac id siirfa< e on board

all sorts of craft, from a bundle of jilanks to the

comfortable boat owned by the miller's son.

In winter they skated u|)iiii its i( e-dad bosom, and

had glorious games of hockey and chase up and down

its glassy length.

It was an unusually large pond, a small lake, in fact,
which had been created by building a large dam across
the foot of the valley, and it furnished sufti( icnt water
power to drive half a do/en nulls. But it had to work
for only one, Mr. Fairman's carding and grist mill,
which had a thriving trade, doing all of the business for
an extensive tract of prosperous country.

219

I ■

ii^

OVER THE DAM

, \

None of the boys ajiprcc iattd the i)ond more keenly
than Ned l'>nrhank. lie was expert in lu)th swiinniing
and skating, and if one wanted to tinil iiini out of
sehool ho.iis, it was pretty safe to look for him at Fair-
man's pond. Always the last to give up bathing in it
and the first to begin skating upon it, lie came in ( oiirse
of time to feel a sort of projirietary interest in the pond
and to regard it as <niite incredible that any harm could
ever happen to him there.

Vet he had once come very near to being drowned
there before he had learned to swim, and another time
broke through the early ice at imminent risk of his life.
These adventures, however, he looked ui)on as mere
incidents of his callow youth, not likely to l)e repeated.

That his beloved pond should treat him in the man-
ner about to be related, gave him therefore hardly less
pain than surprise. It seemed like a betrayal of c(jn-
fidence which somehow refle<:ted upon himself as hav-
ing been too trustful. This was the way it happened :

After a long, cold winter which had afforded more
than a usual amount of skating, Mr. ^airman's men
began cutting the ice to store it away for summer use.

This operation ne boys watched with lively interest.
They gave the benefit of their services too when the
ice cutters were willing to accept of them.

Ned Hurbank was in his element. For the sake of
being allowed to stay about, he was willing to take a
hand at anything. Now he would be handling a saw
and again poling a detached block cf ice to the place
where the teams awaited it.

md more Vt-enly
l)otli swiiiiniing
'iiul l)iiu out (if
lor l)iiit at I'air-
iip bathing in it
c laiiK' ill ( oiirsc
■rest ill the iioiid
t any harm could

I being ilrowiiL'd
ml anotluT time
it risk of his life,
i uj)on as mere
,' to be repeated,
iiiin in tlie maii-
refore hardly less

betrayal of con-
I himself as hav-
ay it happened :
d afforded more

Fairman's men
or summer use.
h lively interest.
L's too when tlie
em.

For the sake of
willing to take a
L' handling a saw

ice to the place

OVKR TlIK PAM 221

" Hi, boys, this is fun for me !" he called to a group
of his playmates who were looking enviously on as he
piloted a liuge bhx k with a pike-pole along the (anal to
the loading ground.

"\\ii\ don't you juini) aiioard ? " (ailed out Sam
I'orter. "It would be easier than walking.

Now the very same idea had before this ( onie into
Ned's mind but. daring as his spirit was. the experi-
nunt seemed loo lia/ardoiis to attempt. So, in reply
to Sam's (iiKstion, he shook his head and went on as
he had been doing. Had Sam said nothing more, that
would have been the end of the matter, but as it
iiapiitned, he was a kind of rival of Ned's, and his jeal-
ous feelings promjjted him to shout in a taunting tone :

" V'ou won't do it because you daren't, .Ned '. \'ou're
scared ; that's about the si/e of it."

It is always irritating to be challenged in this way
and cooler heads than Ned po.ssessed have been thus
tempted into folly.

Ned's spirit rose at once. "I'm not a bit afraid,"
he responded hotly; "and I'll soon show you."

As he spoke a huge cake broke off from the outer
edge of the main body of ice, and began to move
slowly downward toward the dam.

Finxl with the notion of |)roving his pluck, Ned
lightly vaulted on to this cake, jiurposing to pole it
back to its place ; but as ill-luck would have it. instead
of landing s(iuarely on his feet, he sli|)i)ed. and in a
violent effort to recover himself, lost hold of the pole,
which fell into the water out of his reach.

f! "

OVKK TIIK HAM

I.
I'-

On Rccinn this the Imys set mi a shout of alarm
that attraiitd the allciUiuii of llu' id' cutters, wlio
Itromptly nislu-d to tlie sjiot, only in l'm<l llial llic cake
on which Ned stontl had lucii < arricd l>y tiic ( iirrcnt
beyond rea( h of ihcir imiIcs. so that tiiey (oiihl render

him no aiil.

One of them threw his pole across the open water,
and Ned (ati liin^ it strove, hy using it as a paddle, to
check the downward progress of his dnmsy raft, but liis
frantic efforts were in sain.

With steadily increasing speed the ice cake moved
toward the dam amid tiie futile cries of his ccmipanions
and the shouts of the men, wlio now fully realized tlie
boy's extreme peril.

"'i'ry and swim ashore!" called out somebody,
and for a moment Ned thought of making the at
temj)t ; but the dark water looked so men ilessly cold
that he felt sure he could not swim a stroke in it. so he
shook his head as though to say, "It's no use ; it (an't
be done."

Onward moved the ice. The water was rushing and
roarii .^ over the dam in full flood, so that the top
tind)e, ,.ere scarcely visible and. as Ned neared it, he
made u]) his mind there was only one chance for life.

At intervals along the top of the dam stout posts
stood up above the rest of the structure. As the ice
cake came sweeping on, seeming to gather impetus for
the leap over the dam, Ned stood on the lower edge, and
the instant before it topjiled over the falls he summoned
all his strength for a spring toward one of the posts.

'">r

1 'l'

\4 V

shout of alarm
o (•iiltc'r>>, will)
1(1 that tl)c cake
I l)\ ihf ( iirrcnt
jy could rciulcr

iIk' ojicn water,

as a paililk'. to

insy raft, but his

ice cake moved

his cumpauioDs

Fully realized the

out somebody,

making the at

men ilessly cold

troke ill it, so lie

i no use ; it can't

■ was rushing and
so that the top
Jed neared it, he
ihance fur life,
dam stout posts
lire. As the ice
athcr impetus for
le lower edge, and
alls he summoned
one of the posts.

OVF.R THE n\M

22.3

He die' not (piite reach it, and for a harrowing minute
had a desperate struggle with the torrent tiiat soiiglil to
hurl him after the ice cake.

By dint of a tremendous effort, however, he gained
his poitit, and throwing his arm around the post, turned
an eager appealing fai e toward the group of men and
boys who were watching his esery mo\emeiit witii in
tense anxiety.

"Can't you hel|i me some way? " he cried to them
across tiie surging waters.

Hitherto they had done nothing but ga/e at him
with staring eyes ; now they woke into ac tion and ran
hither and thither in wild haste to be of service.

One of the men rushed to the mill and procuring a
coil of rojjc made his way as near to Xed as lu' fouid
and tried to throw the end out to him. Ihit he (oidd
not fling it far enough ; his best efforts fell some yards
short.

'I'lieu another jilaii suggested itself, to go back to the
ice and lloat the rope down. The end was accordingly
tied to a block of wood and committed to the water.

With jirovoking slowness tlie blo( k glided down, a
man guiding its course as best he could in Ned's vliret -
tion. Hobbing merrily up and down as though no life
was dependent upon its making the right course, the
block floated along, while the exc ited crowd of .spec-
tators joined in encouraging shouts of:

" Hold on, Ned ; the rope will soon lie up to you !
Keep your grip. We'll pidl you up all right."

Poor Ned's face lighted up with hope when he saw

i, l!,

224

OVER THE HAM

tlie scheme. Ho was chilled almost to the -^leart, but
he resiioiided bravely :

'•All right, I'll hold on. But hurry up."
Unhappily it was not ijossible to hurry up. The
block of wood to which the rope was attached had to
he carefully yuided, and this took time. In breathless
anxiety the spectators watched the effort.

"It's going straight for him!" exclaimed Frank
Kairman, the miller's eldest son. "He'll get it all
right."

Then raising his voice he shouted :
' ' Keep your hold, NVd ; the rope will reach you in
a minute !"

After careering about in a most trying fashion, the

block at last seemed to make uj) its mind to do what

was required of it and made directly for Ned, whose

strength was fast failing him.

Presently a glad shout arose :

"Hurrah ! It's reached him— he's got it ! Now

pull him ui> ! "

Ned had gotten his hand on the block, but in their
eagerness to rescue him half a dozen laid hold of the
rope, with the result thit they gave it such a tug as to
pull it ipiite out of his grasj), causing them to go sprawl-
ing on the ice in a manner that at any other time would
have been supremely ludicrous.

But no one thought of laughing for, once more at
the mercy of the powerful current, Ned shot swiftly
backward, and this time struck the dam in the interval
between two of the posts, so that there was nothing for

'*8ii4i

the ^leart, but

np."

urry up. The
ittachcd bad to
In breathless
t.

idaimed Frank
He'll get it all

ill reach you in

ing fashion, the
lind to do what
for Ned, whose

s got it ! Now

K-k, but in their
laid hold of the
such a tug as to
lem to go sprawl-
other time would

»r. once more at
Ned shot swiftly
m in the interval
e was nothing for

OVER TFIE DAM

225

him to hold on by except the smooth, slippery crown
piece.

Yet, with a strength l)orn of desperation, lie did suc-
ceed in grasping this, digging his nails into the wet
wood and thereby withstanding the pitiless pressure of
the icy waters.

Jiut no human being could sustain such an effort
long. Ned's endurance had been taxed to the utmost.
Every muscle and sinew had borne all that it was ca-
pable of, and just as the rope for the second time came
floating down toward him, he gave a heartrending cry,
let go his hold and, amid a chorus of groans from the
appalled onlookers, was swept over the top of the dam
and hurled into the pool forty feet below, whose foam-
flecked whirls instantly closed over his head.

There was a wide space of open water at the foot of
the dam, and then the ice closed solidly from bank to
bank for a distance of three hundred yards, beyond
which was another opening caused by a series of shal-
lows.

No one who witnessed his descent into the pool ex-
pected ever to see Ned Burbank alive again, yet actu-
ated by a common impulse, they all rushed down the
bank with their eyes fixed upon the open water at the
shallows. His body must reapjiear there, unless in
some way it should be caught underneath the ice.

Frank Fairman led the crowd. He lov(;d Ned and
would have dared anything to aid him had there been
an opportunity. As he reached the spot where the
white sheet of ice gave way to black and troul)led

336

OVER THE DAM

water, liis quick eye .aught sight of some thing that
caused him to shout :

'•There he is! I see him ! "

'1-he next moment, thinking not of the risk, he
bounded down the bank and. springing' into the .ce-
roid water, forced his way through it until he had hold
of the limp, apparently lifeless body of his fnend.

Some of the men were close behind him, and m an-
other moment Ned was out of the water and bemg
hurried to the miller's hoi.se. Frank leading the way
a,id seeking to cheer both himself and the others by
asserting confidently :

<' He's not dead ; he's only fainted. He'll come to

ill! right."

\s it happily turned out. Frank's faith in Ned s re-
covery proved well founded. The doctor happened to
be right at hand. Under his directions life came back
,0 the insensible form, and at the end of an hour Ned
was able to ask in a da/ed way :

" What's up ? Did I go over the dam ? "
Thanks to his splendid constitution and sturdy frame
he suffered slight conse.piences from his terrible expe-
rience, but he did not fail to let it teach him the les-
son of greater prudence in the future.

f somiil'ing that

of the risk, he
inj' into the icc-
until he had hold
)f his friend.

I him, and in an-
water and being
leading the way

.nd the others by

]. He'll come to

niith in Ned's re-
octor happened to
ons life came back
d of an hour Ned

dam?"

II and sturdy frame
I his terrible expe-

teach him the les-
e.

'^il^fe;,??®;'?

1^:

15? ^

HI'IKIO are ghost sioiics and giio,,!
stories. Some arc true in the

■'"' '*^' ■ -^ foundation in iiliysical fad;

others a,.' •'o'er true" in the
sense (jf being men; inventions
of the imagination. I'liose tiiat

I am ah(jul \.o tell may i)e confidently accepted as

belonging to t!ie former class.

No one that knew Hilly Patterson would be likely to
accuse him of any lack of courage. He was too sturdy
of build and determined of countenance for that.
Moreover, he was rather inclined to be boastful of his
freedom from nervousness and of his indillerence to
what might be very startling to a less stolid jierson.

In the api)earance of ghosts he did not believe. No
haunted house had any terrors for aim, he asserted.

Ipl

228 A TRIO <'l' Tl^^JE GHOST STORIKS

As there happened to be no haunted houses in the
neighborliood, this assertion Nvent un.lKiUenged ; but
several limes he was n.ade the subject of pra.t.eal jokes
intended to give him a scare. In every instance, how-
over he had gotten the best of it, and his reputation
for Courage went ins.alhed until the night he saw the
apparition at Shirtev's bay.

liiUy was an aident sportsman and every autumn
betook himself to Shirley's l'.ay to shoot the ducks
wliich came there in great nu.ubers to feed on the wdd
rice that grew abundantly. His camping ground was a
small, well-wooded island at the mouth of -he bay.
He did n.)t take a tent. The f.rst week in September
could be safely counted upon as being free from rain,
,na there was a sort of shanty on the island that suited
him well enough. He reached his camping groun^ just
in lime to settle himself in the shanty, .gather a lot o
firewood, and prepare himself a good supper, whereof
he ate heartily ; shortly afterward he rc'ied up m his
blanket and went to sleep. The shanty was all open in
front and the fire had been built dose to it. Helcr,-e
turning in. Hilly ,.ut a lot of wood on the fire, for the
night air felt rather chilly.

He had been asleep about ".vo hours when he was
awakened by something brushing his face, while a warm
breath made itself felt upon his cheek. Lifting his head
with a start, his eyes met the most extraordinary object
thev had ever seen ; for standing right over him was a
hor'rible being, only half revealed by fitful flashes from
the fast-dying fire, that surely could be no other than

ed houses in the
inchallciigcd ; but
t of jiraitical jokes
cry instance, how-
nd his reputation
night he saw the

md every autumn
shoot the ducks
:o feed on the wild
iping ground was a
mouth of .he bay.
veek in September
ing free from rain,
e island tliat suited
;aniping grounfl just
nty. .gather a lot of
od supper, whereof

he rc'ied up in his
lanty was all open in
close to it. Before

on the fire, for the

I hours when he was
lis face, while a warm
cek. Lifting his head
extraordinary object
right over him was a
by fitful flashes from
iM be no other than

.\ TKIU ()!■ rKUE (.HUbl ariiKli;;^

12<J

the evil one himself, as shown in theatrical i)erform-
aiues. There were tlic horns, tiie iioofs, liie shaggv.
saturnine visage, the bla/iug eyes. t!ie horrible, sneer-
ing smile.

With a jiic: :ing cry of terror that startled the duds
dozing among i.ie wikl-rice beds and sent them off in
quacking llight. Jiilly, i)utliug ail iiis strength into a
frenzied effort, thing the awful app.uition from him so
that it fell prone into the glowing; embers; and then,
rushing frantically to the shore, he sprang into his canoe
and i)addled to the mainland witii strenuous strokes.
i)etween every second dij) of the paddle glancing fear-
Adly over his shoidder to see if the monster was follow-
ing him.

A light that sent its friendly rays from a farmhouse
winilow was his beacon, and making his way thither, he
related his alarming experience and begged permission
to remain for the night. I'iiis was readily granted, and
the next morning Hilly persuaded the burly farmer and
his stalwart son to accompany him back to the island in
order to make a thorough search into the cause of his
fright, if by any chance it could be discovered.

Their search was rewarded with success, and after a
fashion that made Ih'Uy feel like hidiufr himself in the
toe of his own shoe. Hidden away where the under-
brush was thickest they found a huge billy-goat, the
burnt patches on whose white and black hide left no
doubt as to the owner thereof being the untimely dis-
turber of the other P)illy's jieaceful slumbers, 'i'he
latter made the farmer and his son promise not to

¥ U:

2'0 A IKK' OF TKUIC UKUSl sToRIl'-S

"mve him awav" ; but somehow the story leaked ont,
and at-ler it did he was no longer pernntted lu boast.

II.

There was a locality not far from my grandtather's
estate. u.N.naSeotia:.alled need. Hill. The lanni,H;

fclk about had.ome to believe that this Ikeeh H.U «as
luuuued, and it was v.ith fear and trembhng that they
passed over it after dark. There were no houses through-
:,nt its length, save one about the middle, whi. h . ertamly
was the abode of spirits, but of the kind that dwe 1 ,n
Lotties. The evil reputation (.•■ the highway jnst there
Treatly helped the business of this drinking booth as .t
;;.« enstomarv for belated waylurers returning home
from the village to hall for an infusion ol -Dut.h
courage," ere undertaking the remainder of the way.

About a mile beyond 15ee. h Mil! stood S.,u.re .dac-
Donald's store. ( )ne dreary night in late autumn there
came thither first Rory ()' More, and then Sandy H.g
Tohn and finallv. Ale. C.iUies. all in a high state of ex-
: citement and asserting positively that they had seen the
.h<,st on Heeeh Hill. The squire was a shrewd hard-
, headed, and unsuperstitious Scotchman, and had no
filth in the Heech Hill ghost.

H.t this time the testunony of the terrified w.tnesses
happened t. agree remarkably. The ghost had ap-
peared to all in precisely the same form, as a white,
shapeless thing that rolled along the ground uttering
shrill and threatening shrieks. The matter was surely
worth looking into.

'm.

'*•««!

TORIES

A TRIO OF TRUE GHOST sTURlEb

231

• story leaked out.
milted U) boast.

I my grnndfather's
ilill. The tanning
Lhis lieedi Hill «as
•embling that they
no houses through-
die, whii h ( erlainly
kind tlial tlwell in
; highway just there
rinking booth, as it
:rs returning home
iifusion ol" '• Dutch
linder of the way.
stood S(iuire Mac-
n late autumn there
and then Sandy Big
n a high state of ex-
at lliey had seen the
was a shrewd, hard-
chman, and had no

he terrified witnesses
'I'he ghost had ap-

ne form, as a white,
the ground uttering

he matter was surely

"Hark ye. now." said the stjuire at last, " I believe
you're nothing better than a parcx-l of foolish boys ; and
to prove it, I'll go up lieech Hill myself and ^ee what
it is that has come so nigh scaring the life out of yon."

Thus s|)eaking, he got his coat and hat and calling
ui)on them to follow set off for the scene of the ghost's
walk. Rory and Sandy and Alec woukl nun h rather
have been excused, but pride overcame their timiility
and they followed. Hardly had they reached the fdot
of the hill when the shrieks again (;ame to their ears.

"'I'here it is again I " exclaimed Rory, with trem-
bling lips. " Can ye no hear it, sipiire?"

''"I'o be sure I can," resjionded the squire stoutly,
"and I'm going to see what it is. Come along."

The distance between the scpn're and his followers in-
creased as he went on, while the shrieks grew louder.

When about the middle of the ascent he saw the
ghost. It was as the men had reported, a white shape-
less thing rolling upon the ground, iuvl ;\uin it i ame
the piercing cries which had proved so alarming.

doing straight up to the thing, the squire tone hed it
with his foot, then bent down to feel it with his hand,
and then gave a roar of laughter that at first startled
the three farmers almost as much as the ghost's shrieks.

"Come here, you fools!" he shouted. "Come
and see what your ghost is."

In a hesitating way they drew near and examined the
cause of their affright. It was a white meal bag con-
taining two very lively young pigs, which had in some
way fallen off a farmer's wagon into the middle of the

232

A TRIO <>1' TKI- '• <'II<).ST STORII-:S

road, there to prove a sour, e of terror to tlie super-
stitious ami perliaps not altogether sol.er passers-by.

111.
One woiikl think that after this ,-x/>,>.sr the Heech
Hill giiost ouglit to be laid for gootl, but a few ' irs later
the s.iuiro ha.l to lay the ghost again. He Lul himself
been late in leaving the village one night, and on rea.h-
ing his shoi. he found gathered there a knot of men
cagerlv listening to Colin Mackintosh's account of the
awfu! api)arition he had just seen on the I'.ee. h Hill.
It was something large and white, and every time it
moved a ( hain rattled in an awful manner.

As soon as tlie squire appeared tlie startling story was
retold to him. l)ut nuu h to the chagrin of the narrator,
instead of being deeply impressed thereby he laughed.
•• Nou're no l)etter than a lot of silly women." said
he. "to believe such ridiculous stories. Come ye all out
to the door and I'll show you the ghost."

At the door stooil his wagon, and in the bottom of it
lay one D-jnald Mclsaac. ovenome by drink, while
fastened to the tailboard was his big white horse.

'•There!" cried the scpiire. i)ointing to the horse.
-That is your ghost, and this," indicating a piece of
chain on the bridle, -is what you heard rattle. I
found Donald in the ditch with his horse standing by."

I'robablv the vast majori^.y of ghosts would prove to
be nothing more terrible than a white horse, a pair <
innocent little pigs, or a billy-goat.

lUKIl-S

ror to tlie siiper-
icr passers-by.

•xf><>.u' the Hcech
111 a lew- irs later
1 Ic 1(1 liimscll
;ht. ami on rcach-
a knot of iiK-n
I's account of the
, the P.ee(h Hill.
111(1 every time it
nner.

startling story was
in of the narrator,
lereliy he laughed,
silly -women," said
s. Come ye all out
ost."

in the bottom of it
e by drink, while

white horse,
iting to the horse,
dicating a jnece of
u heard rattle. 1
lorse standing by."

)sts would i)rove to
lite horse, a pair r

•wrTjfcj ^»-

S the side-wheel steamer ''Her-
ald" plowed her way through
St. John's Harbor and jjointed
her white prow toward
ICast|)ort the wind i)lew
fresh from the diu-
geroiis sou; h-
east.

It ca .n e
. ^ with gusts

of rain that
t h e weather-
wise knew to be
the forerunners of torrents. Mut ("ajitain l^iown seemed
undisturbed iiy tlie threatening weather as he stood in
the high wlieel-liouse signaling orders by the gong to
the engineer below.

No navigator of fho.se dangerous coasts had better

^3Z

234

DENNIS nONAHUF.'s VV.V.U

knowledge of their perils than Captain lUown. tie vvas
hi own pilot and he prided himself on the re,u r
ofhistr.s. Nothingshort of. hnrruan would iKue
kept hin» in port when he ought to have been at sea,
-iccordinii to the sthedule.

The 'Herald- had a full .omplement oi passengers,
and all the freight she could .omfortal.ly carry I here-
fore her captain was in a cheerful frame o, m,nd when
Mr' John iiUis pushed his head in at the wnulow of
the wheel-house.

'a-aptain, don't you think we're gomg ^o ^^.ne a
rough trip?" said Mr. Cillis. a nervous, m.ddle-agcd

"'^"Hl^liyourheart.sir.andwhatifweareP'Maughed
the captain. « The ' Herald ' can stand ,t all serene^
She's faced a deal sight worse blows than .s ahead of
her to-day. and made her berth on time nght enough.

Mr C.illis wore an encouraged look for several sec-
onds. Then a flaw of rain dashed into h,s ace as
though it had been especially flung at hm.. He held
his h' t on with both hands and ga.ed wUh r.sn.g trep.-
dation on the waves wallowing out of the gray storm
tr, ^t^ike the ship with audible blows.

Tht p.ws of the sea seemed to be playfully smit.ng
the - Herald." Hut it was with the gradually .n-reas-
ing force of a lion cub. that wonders at the resistance
of a little object with which he amuses hm.se f At n
louder slap than any preceding. Mr. C.illis looked from
the ocean's face to Captain Hrown's.

.< Don't be a bit scared, Mr. CilUs," exclauned the

^■^Cj

lUown. »lc was
,n llic rcKularity
•iiiu woukl liavc
vc been at sea.

nt ot i)assengcrs,
ily carry. There -
ic of mind when
;U the window of

going to liave a
•ous, middle-aged

,ve are?" laughed
and it all serene,
i than is ahead of
ue right enough."
ok for several sec-
1 into his fare as
at him. He held
d with rising trepi-
of the gray storm

be playfully smiting
; gradually increas-
rs at the resistance
ises himself. .\t a
C.illis looked from

Ills," exclaimed the

DENNIS Donahue's deed

235

captain. "'I'his is iiotliiiig to what it will lie out-
side."

Mr. Gillis groaned as lie ( areftdly descended to the
cabin, where he wedged himself tightly iiit.i a corner
seat and thought his wife and ( hildren (oiikl never be
grateful eiiougli to hint for eiKountering these terrors
for tluir sake.

IJown the bay of Kundy the wind blew "great guns"
and the "Herald's" tossing became so violent that
nearly all tiie passengers took refuge in tiieir staterooms
to struggle with the horrors of seasickness.

" I reckon we are going to have a rough time of it,"
said the cajjlain to I'irst Mate Donahue, at the wheel.
"Jhit if nothing happens, we'll get into iiastport all
right before dark."

"Not much fear of our missing that, sir," replied
Donahue; "the steamer's doing finely, seeing the
wind's dead against her."

They had moved out from the wharf at midday. Six
hours' steady steaming should bring them to Mastport.
Split Rock and Dipper Harbor were already far behind,
and I'oint {.ej^reaux was drawing near. .Now the wind
was a gale and the rain a cascade. Through the dark
rack on the right a craggy coast line loomed ; on the left
the turbid billows of the bay foamed out their fury upon
one another's backs. hew sails were in sight, and all
were scudding under half-s..il for a haven, not daring a
defiant tussle with such a storm.

The jib and foresail of the "Herald" had been
hoisted to steady her, a:: J were doing good service

DENNIS PONAHUE'S nKEO

..,,.„"i,MlH..UM..la.U'na».l»''' >■''»;, ^
„.l,..l.UwyfaiW.l....»"<Kl»--"l""'-''^"""'''

of a l„„n.anc. Ini sm a ^_^^^^ ^^j„,

camas. .orJaB.-. ami ''l'"""-'""' l""'\„.,„ „,,,, ,,ill an.l

^-rr;rra:,:t„...o;."..-

:a,;:;:;..uHa...a„,..r.o-s^^^^^^^^^

.,,.,.„ wavkaBO «■,«..,.. ^.^ Infers. CakcU.C

fn.in below. ,-,. ^, { ^i^eot,

..Cut away ihat stay. Ja<k! ( a t o^

Mike!

Vend off the mast there. Andy .

passengers poured upstairs.

of those squalls
upon Uic strain-
avc «;in.«.iu<l liU
It iluTC was ni)
camcT. rixiu^ih
c rttrciigtli m il>c
f enough to bring

e shii). and then
Dfcc were not that
seconils— still the
cut foremast . with

I, ; the mast ^ave
ed a conlusion oi

mast heUl still and
; "Herald's" lee.
on the irest she
■n her bow plunged
overboard.
he paddle-wheel !"

II. Jelfers. take the
ue,kec\. her straight

to the deck, shout-
nJs who rushed up

Cast off that sheet,

Andy:"

Icrs just as a mob of

DKNNIS DUN AH UK's UKKU

237

"Co down; down, I say!" roared the captain.
" Clear my deeks. I'.ai k to the rabin. (iivg us ruum
and we're all ni^lit. I)uwn, I say ! "

llefore leaving ilic wheel-liouse lie liad rung for the
engine to be reversed, ami the paddle-wheel luid
stopped after two more revolutions. Ihit the mi>ihiel
had been done already. The wie( kage, driven right
under the big padtlle-wlieel by the onward motion of
the vessel, had become entangled among tiie lloats. .\
rope caught in one, and drew the jib alter. One ot
the steel guys followed. It lifted the mast against the
paddle-wheel, and the "Herald" had lost all i)ower to
move. Not one fijot forward could she go till the
liad<lle-wheel liould be liberated.

In ordinal* weather this would be no light matter;
but ( rowded as the bay usually was with shi])ping, help
woidd no doubt have speedily come. liut in the nn'dst
of a gale, with the wind dri\ing the vessel straight u])on
the terrible headland of Point I.epreaux, the situation
of the steamer was full of ))eril.

Down below, one hundred and twenty-seven passen-
gers huddled together in panic. Some, not altogether
bereft of sense, began ])reparations to save themselves
when the steamer should strik". .A cool spectator might
have thought some of their actions comii al. Mr. (Jillis,
taking handken hiefs from his gripsack, tied si.x stools
tightly together, quite overlooking the fixct that his im-
provised raft was too big to be gotten out of the cabin.
•Another passenger emptied his two trunks and
strapped them together. Several turned tables iq)si(le

1 i

238

DENNIS noNAHUF.'S PKED

■$•

down, ^at in them, and held desperately on by the legs
Then a dandified young man came with an armful of
nat cork life-preservers, and coolly tossed them around.
When all these were gone, he still held a circular or

ring float. . ,,

'• (live me that if you're a man ! " shrieked a mid.lle-

aged lady "f great girth. . , , •

'. With pleasure, madame," he said, and he had h.s
reward in watching her frantic effort to get into a hole
not large enough to accommodate her shoulders. Sud-
denly she threw it down, cried - toward 1 " and wad-
dled after the crowd th.t had run for the rest of the

cork floats.

Up on deck there was no funny element to be seen.
The steamer, lying now in the trough, was momentar.ly
hammered by the broken mast. Though the mam-
stays of steel rope had now been cut away from the
dock, the wreckage was firmly held to the paddle-box.
Against it the " Herald " N.as more and more presseu
by the fierce wind. Three men had entered the pad-
dle-box, and returned to report that there was a tangle
of canvas and rope and wire lower down than they

dared to venture.

.' We're in a bad fix, Donahue," said the captain.

"Faith, we are, sir."

"If we don't get the wheel clear inside of an hour

we'll be on the point."

" We've got to get it clear, sir."

"'Got to'-yes. T.otto.' But how? That s
the .luestion. Great heavens ! There are a hundred

^ on by the legs.
Ih an armful of
:d them around.
;ld a circular or

irieked a middlc-

, and he had his
I get into a hole
shoulders. Sud-
ard 1 ' ' and wad-
)r the rest of the

ment to be seen.

was momentarily
hough the main-
it away from the
1 the paddle-box.
md more pressed
entered the pad-
there was a tangle

down than they

said the captain,
inside of an hour

^ut how? That's
2re are a hundred

nr.NNrs donamuk'.s deed

and thirty souls aboard ! And "ni at the end of my
plans."

"Faith, then, I'm not. sir. (Jive me that axe,
Mike I " lie yelled to one of the deck hands.

"What are you going to try, Dennis?" cried the
captain.

"There's only one thing, captain. That's to get
the wheel clear. ' '

" But how? how? There's nothing to be done."

"Let me try, captain. Hoy there, men!" roared
Dennis, suddenly taking command ; "upon tiie pad-
dle-bo.\ with you! Cut away the boarding! Mike,
fetch nie a couple of cold-chisels and a heavy hammer
from the engine-room. 'J'hat's right, boys; smash a
big hole. Don't hurt the frame timber. Captain, I'll
go down the floats and see what I can do. You stand
by to pass me the tools I'll be calling for."

"You'll be drowned, Dennis. See the roll of her!
You'll be under water half the time."

"What of that, sir? It's the one chance for the
boat."

"Man alive, but you're a sailor!" cried the de-
lighted captain. " Dennis, I'll go down with you."

"Faith, you won't, sir ! You're a family man; and
more than that, it's your captain's duty to command.
Now then, boys ; stand back till I get into that hole."

Now the helpless .iteamer was burying her gunwales
at every roll. The higher crests broke upon the decks,
and flung heavy caps of water through the smashed
windows of the saloon, against the panic-stricken pas-

240

DENNIS DON. mile's DKED

sengers. Some <lu.>g to tlie posts that held up the
cabin roof; some wore flung against the walls; some lay
moaning ; and more crouched in prayer.

Meanwhile the man who risked his life to save them,
was holding to the Hoats as the ship, listing far to .ee-
ward. con^.letely buried him in the sea. When slie
rocked him up again he plied cold-.hisel and hammer
Donahue had soon seen that the place where work
was really needed was on a float at the rear of the pad-
dle-box, near where that stru.-ture rose from the tim-
bers carrying the upper deck. Had the "Herald
been lying .pnetly at her wharf, that float would have
been a little higher out of water than the man. deck
floor. It was the last float which had gone up nito the
paddle-box after coming from the water.

Up above this float, and over to the front ot the
wheel, the rope and jib had been drawn, after gomg
under the paddle-wheel. Behind them came the wre
rope This had been drawn in till it became tau by
p.luing the mast against the front of the wheel-box,
where it protruded above the water.

Had the wire rope's end been fastened to the .«^''
the job of freeing the float would have been less d.ffi-
cult But the sail had enwrapped the w:re m such a
.vay as to draw its loose end over the float and drop >t
down when the wheel stopped.

In some inexplicable manner, possibly by the rock-
ing of the ship and the action of the waves the loose
end of the wire rope had become entangled n. the
wreckage below, after passing over the float. Donahue

:ei)

hat held up the

ic walls; some lay

er.

life to save them,

listing (iir to ^fe-

sea. When she
iscl and hammer.

place where work
e rear of the i)ad-
)sc from the tim-
(1 the "Herald"

float would have
an the main deck
J gone up into the
ter.

) the front of the
drawn, after going
liem came the wire

it became taut by

of the wheel-box,

astened to the sail
liave been less diffi-
1 the wire in such a
he float and drop it

ossibly by the rock-
ihe waves, the loose
le entangled in the
the float. Donahue

DENNIS nONAHUE's nEEP

241

saw tliat it must be cut loose at the low float, else it
would ( ontinue to ait as a brake on the wlieil. 'I'lic
rope and sail iiighcr up liad already been tt)rn awa\ hy
the men after lliey had cut away the i)()artling of the
paddle-box.

He <lainl)ered tlown with (old-iiiisci and lianimer,
struck twice and went under as the ship careened.
Over, over she listed, till the men above had to lean
against the box to keep their footing. Then she slowly
U]jrose.

The captain, looking down the great hole cut out of
the boarding, saw his mate's head lonie up. Donahue
shook it, raised his hammer and struck again. Orce,
twice, — six times — he disappeared again under the sea.

No man can strike well in so small a space as that
which was left for Donahue's working, even if <lrv and
warm and steadily supported. A cpiarter of an hour
passed. The ship was within a mile of the breakers
pounding on Point Lepreaux, and still the steel rope
was uncut.

Time and again the mate went under, time and again
doggedly resumed his endeavor. l':ach time the vessel
seemed to list more, and each minute the wind and
waves grew.

" He can't live down there ten minutes longer. (Jo
down and take your turn, Jack." cried the captain.

" Not for the ship," said Jack.

"You, Mike."

"Not a fut for all the gould in St. John," said
Mike.

242

nF.NMS ponaiiuk's deed

..Then IMl go myself!" exclaimed ih. captain

""£'at that instant the steamer was pressed over by
, wilder wind than any bel^^re. Down -"^ ^^l^^^;
aown and down. The i>assengers cned w.th ca to
.low at last they were sure she would "turn turtle.

When she righted Donahue was not to be seen.

..He's gone!" "He lost h,s hold and '.ent
,,,acr:" -He's drowned!- cried th • deck hands,
ua/ing down into the paddle-box.
'captain Brown said nothing. He prepared to act
■,,e ine chance for his passengers and sh.p seenu^^
Ue that he might complete Donahue's wor^- M-
over, h. was goaded to effort by shame that h.s mate
had been left to die alone.

Captain Brown entered the paddle-box as the ves^e
W.S rising. As he looked down he saw a man s hands
, g ng to the wire-bound float. Next moment
) nalL-s head appeared. He ^aj^bered eeb
above reach of the .-ater and sat down. Captam
Brown descended to him. ,,

..Donahue ! Man alive, T thought you were gone.
« So I was. I lost my grip. Somehow the wreck-
age stopped me and I caught on, I don't know how. as
she came down again. Are we near shore ?

" Half a mile." . ^ ^

.. My God-the people on board ! Captam ge me
a saw. Maybe I can saw through the float and let the
wire go. I can't cut it through." _^

" I' 11 do it, Donahue. You' re used up.

icd ih-^ captain

pressed over by
1 went Donahue,
led with fear, lor
d "turn tvirtle."
J be seen,
hold and \v*"nt
Ih • deck hands,

; prepared to act.
id ship seemed to
e's work. More-
ime that his mate

e-box as the vessel

saw a man's hands

Next moment

clambered feebly

It down. Captain

ht you were gone."
Dmehow the wreck-
don' t know how, as
,r shore? "

i ! Captain, get me
the float and let the

used up."

1 )KN M.S 1 )< I \ A 1 1 L' !•: > I )KEI)

243

" (Jet the saw ! " shouted Dunaluie.

When lie liad it in iiis hand he descendrtl aj^aiii to
the float and went under, and <amc fortli and wont
under again and again. Hut the men above thoughl
he never stopped sawing. Death seemed eagerly wail-
ing for them, hut they broke into cheer atkr duer as
they hjheld tlie resolute man rise sawing awav as if he
had never ceased, while submerged, to work for tiieir
lives.

'I'he " Herald" was within a quarter of a mile of Point
Lepreaux wlien Donahue looked up, stojijied sawing.
and signaled, " (io ahead."

"Come up," cried the captain.

Donahue tried to lift himself, but he was exhausted.

"Go ahead," he signaled again.

"I'd sooner lose the shi].. mate .'" shouted Captain
Brown, and he clambered down to Donahn-- just in
time to prevent him from being washed away as both
went under.

Then Captain Brown struggled up till the men took
his mate from his grasj). Donahue was still able to
sjieak. "Go ahead," he said. "The float will break
away now, and she'll clear herself."

The captain sprang up to the wheel-house and rang
the order. The machinerj- began to move. For a
moment there was resistance. Then the sawed float
broke away and released the wire ro|)e. 'Hie mast fell
back to the water. Both port and starboard wheels
turned freely in their boxes. The steamer soon an-
swered her helm.

;|t','

244

DKNNIS noN.MlUI'-'s DKl'-D

With tlK crags c.f l>oint Lcpreaux so cW to her
that . child on do.:k might have hit then w.lh a biscu.t,
the '• HcraUl" once nu.rc breasted the wave..

\l„-..'>^ l!av past the dreadef'
On she went across Ma(.e s i-ay, iw^t

.'WoUes." around Head Harbor Point and down the
eastern passage to llastport. reaching her berth >n safety

ere the liarkness fell. 1 .u ,

A large purse was raised for Dennis Donahue by the
hundred and thirty people on board, and they showered
thanks on his heroism. Dennis laugh.ngly -'tused the
purse, and was uneasy under the expressions of grat-

^"'-\h thin, what a talk about nothing," said Dennis.
- Sure I was only doing me duty by the ould - Herald
and the company's passengers and me captam. (-ve
me a p.rse. is it? Bedad. I'd have no conce.t of
meself at all if I touched a thripenny bit that ye ve
raised."

WPi

*-*iftiiy

so close to her
n with a biscuit,
waves,
ast iho clreadc'
t aiul down the
jr berth in safety

Donahue by the
kI ihcy showered
ingly refused the
)ressions of grati-

ig," said Dennis,
eould -Herald"
le captain. C-ive
ve no conceit of
ny bit that ye've

M RESCMi

, Cl.ICK-CI.ACK of iron-shdd
iioufs striking in (|ui(:k succes-
sion upon tiie slimy, sli])i)ery
floor of the long, dark level,
the repeating rattle of the " rake " as the < iiain of ( oal
tubs is called, and the growing glmiiner of a " Davy,"
told Dannie Robertson, one of the "trappers" in
the Springhill Mines, of the ajjproach of Da\e N'orris,
the driver whose route lay through Dannie's door.

'I'he young trapper was sharplv on the watch for the
rake, and did not need Dave's cheery call of " Hello,
there, Dannie ! Here we are again, \\ake up, now,
and open that door," in order to be ready to fling open
the heavy door whii h he tended during the long days
of darkness. He and Dave were great friends, and

245

246

THE i<ESCUE OK I.ITTI.K JUD

i i '

the latter' s passing to and fro between the cuttings and
tlie shaft, his little train of cars roarinji down full and
rattling hack eini)ty. formed almost the only break in
the monotony of Dannie's dreary task.

It was the way at the Springhill Mines for each driver
to take a trai)i)er under his special patronage and pro-
tection. Sometimes, of course, this meant a certain
amount of bullying on the one side and of fagging on
the other, but usually it turned out a good arrangement
for the little trapper, who was thus assured of a sturdy
champion in case of need. Dave Norris was Dannie's
protector, and always treated him with a rough but
hearty kindness tiiat had comi)letely won the boy's
heart. Often on his way back from the shaft he would
stop for a bit of a chat, provided there was no sign of
the overman. To Dannie's delight he checked his old
gray horse this time, and as soon as the big- door had
been duly closed the trapper ran after his friend and
climbed into the car beside him.

"How's it going. Dave?" said he, a bright smile
breaking through the grime on his plump face.

"All serene. Dannie," was the reply. "But say,
I've made a match for you," Dave went on quickly,
for hi.i halt could be only a short one. "Tom Hogan
says his tra\)per can knock sjjoIs out of you, and I've
bet him he can't. So we fixed it for you to fight him
jn the big cutting it dinner hour to-morrow. You'll
be all ready, eh?"

The smile had vanished from Dannie's face while
the driver was speaking, and had they both been above

l^L,

Tllli Ul-aClK Ol' I iriLK jur)

247

J cuttings and
lown full and
only break in

for each driver
nage and pro-
.•ant a certain

of fagging on
d arrangement
ed of a sturdy
i was Dannie's
1 a rough hut
,on the boy's
shaft he would
vas no sign of
hecked his old

big- door had
his friend and

a bright smile
|) face.

y. ' ' But say,
nt on cjuickly,
"Tom Hogan
r vou, and I've
on to fight him
lorrow. You'll

lie's face while
oth been above

ground Dave could hardly have failed to notice, even
through tlie obscuring layer of (Dal dust, the burning
blush that had risen. But though he ( utdd not see
this, he did observe Dannie's hesitation in replying,
and mistaking its reason, hastened to add :

"Oh, it'll be all right about the 'oor. We'll get
one of the other boys to look after it, and we'll keep a
sharp lookout for tlie overman, so there's no fear of
your being caught."

Still Dannie, instead of giving a brisk assent, as
Dave had fully exjjccted him to do, hung his head in
silence, and in a tone of surprise not unmixed with
irritation, the driver demanded ;

"What's uj) with you, Dan ie? Why are you so
mum ? "

It was evidently with great difficulty that Dannie,
looking steadfastly downward, as though shrinking from
Dave's impiiring gaze, got out the words, " I'd rather
not fight, Dave. I don't want to have any more
fights."

Dave's response was first a whistle of astonishment
and then a torrent of indignant questioning and i)ro-
testing, winding up with a roui. 1 of coarse abuse when
his temper had altogether got the better of him. From
his point of view, Dannie's conduct was both aggra-
vating and unreasonable ir the highest degree. Never
before had the boy taken this stand ; he had always
responded promptly to any such summons, and with
unfailing success. Time and time again had Dave
Norris' traj)per taken his plaoe in the extemporized

248

TllK KKSCUK Ol' i.irn.K JUI>

f i 1 ,

5 ' '

rin^' in the l>i^' cutting, iuul amidst the cheers of the
M;i(k-faie(l miners proved liis siiiRTiority at fisticnffs to
any utiier traiii)er in the mine. Wiiat then lould l)e
the meaning of his iioliling l)ack now? Was it pos-
sihle that he feared to face I'om Ilt)gan's trajiper, a
new l)oy in tlie mine, vhose prowess was yet to he
tested ?

It would perhaps liave been better if Dannie had
attenipt'.d to explain his conduct to Dave, but a shy-
ness he could not overcome sealed his lii)s, and ]ires-
enlly Dave drove off in a high dudgeon, leaving Dan-
nie in a very miserable state of mind.

'•I'm sorry Dave's so mad," he muttered, "lint
1 <an't iielp it. I promised Mr. Stirling I'd never
fight unless 1 had to. It's against the rules of tiie Mri-
gade. and I'm not going to break them even to oblige
Dave."

'I'his was Dannie's secret. Only a fortnight before
he had joined tlie Hoy's I'.rigade in connection with
the Sunday-si hool of St. Matthew's Church. Mr.
Stirling, tlie i)astor of the church and ( ommander of
the Ihigade, knew of these pri/.e-fights in the i)it, and
was doing his best to put a stop to them. Hence he
was especially careful in enjoining u])on his recruits
that they should never take part in another fight.

The n?.\l morning Dave renewed his efforts to jter-
suade Dannie to fight, but with no better success than
before, ac finally went off vowing that he'd have
nothing more to do with him. and that he'd make him
the laughingstock of the mine.

*^4i|_..

JUI)

e cheers of tlie
ty at fistiriifls to
t then luiild be

? Was it pus-
gan's trapiier, a

was yet Id he

r if Dannie had
)ave, but a shy-
s ll]>s, and ]ires-
)n, leaving Dan-

luttered. "lint
irling I'd never
rules of the l>ri-
111 even to oblige

fortnight before
connection with
; Church. Mr.
1 commander of
s in the i)it, and
em. Hence he
l)on his recruits
other fight,
lis efforts to jier-
ttcr success than

lliat he'd have
t he'd make him

rnE KE-sci F. OF Lrrii.F. !v\^

249

It was a trying ordeal through whi( h the jioor boy
had now to |)ass. Dave fulfilled his threat only too
well, and Dannie's life was made \vrct( lied by his piti-
less taunts and the luitspoken ((Uitcmpt ni liic other
men in the mine.

" I'm not a (owartl," the t(»rmented trai>i)er would
say to himself. " Dave knows very well I'm not, and
it's awfully mean of him to (all me sue h names."

'{'he fa( t of the matter was that the driver did know
it very well iiuleed, but he had hoped to win money
*"rom Tom llogan through Dannie's prowess, and the
boy's persistent refusal to fight nettled him sorely.

ft was therefore an unspeakable relief to the latter
when the overman, plea.sed vith the fidelity and prompt-
ness he showed as tra|)per, promoted him to the driv-
er's box, giving him a route over in another part of the
mine from that in wlii( h he had been working. He
thus got out of reach of Dave's ridicule and could
perform his day's duties in < omparative peai e.

He now in his turn had a trapper to lord it over,
and was able, if he chose, to take satisfaction out of
him for the insults and indignities he had had to bear
himself Hut that was not the way Dannie looked at
the matter. Poor little Jud Farris' experience in the
mine had been a very trying one. Naturally of a nerv-
ous temperament, the drivers soon discovered his fail-
ing and took pleasure in frightening him half out of
his wits. A flivorite trick was to blow out their lamps,
rub their hands with matches until the phosphorus
caused them to shine with a ghostly glimmer, and then

tt^

f j|t !

250 niK KEsci'K OK i.irn.E jun

make the hair of the Icrrilk-d trapper stand on end by
"ling down silently upon hin. hoLlinK one ha..d
,.,f.re the face. When thus ,r.,htened Jud n vcr
failc-d to .live under his seat w.thout delay, and to rc-
,„,i„ there until his tormentors had passed out of s.g .
Instead of eontinuiuK these tri.ks. nann.e took httle

,„, ,vho was only ten years old. under h.s prote, t.on
w.,uld not allow any one to tease him >. he <ould

prevent it; so the youuKster-s lot was greatly hghened
Ll he learned to look up to Danme and to love hnn

Willi al' the strength of his heart.

one memorable Saturday in the month of February
everything had been running as smoothly as usual .n the
..i„e, and the pit boys were in hi,h sp-r.ts because of
the nearness of their weekly holiday, l-.ttle Jud was
at his door ; and Dannie Robertson. havn.g h.tched u.
to a lonK rake of " empties." was drivmg along gayl>
Lide.l,t mind fidl of pleasant thoughts of tl.mc..

row for Sunday was the happiest da> m the week to
hiu, ; when suddenly, without the slightest warn.ng, a
whirlwind of dust struck him full in the face w.th such
fearful force as to hurl bin. almost «^^;-*^^«^^» ^;,
ground, his head getting a deep gash at the back where

it struck the iron rail. .

The next instant an awful wave of devourmg flame
swept over the prostrate boy, accompanied by a roanng
as of the loudest thunder.

So terrible was the violence of the explosion that .
lifted Dannie from the Hoor of the level and reversed

'"^ . . , 1 ^ 1 »lw. lw,Hnni of the

r.is

;a Dannie irom ui^ ..>,. -

position, turning his head toward the bottom of the

tf L

ill

f, JUD

r stand on eiul by

\lLMu-d J ml never
; delay, and to re-
passed Dill of i^iK'i'-
Dannie took little
der his protection,
sc him if he < onld
is greatly lightened,
lie and to love him

month of I'ehruary
othly as usual in the
h si)irits because of
ay. Little Jud was
I. having hitched up
, driving along gayly
loughts of the mor-
tla) in the week to
slightest warning, a
n the fiice with such
ost senseless to the
sh at the back where

; of devouring flame
mpanied by a roaring

the explosion that it
lie level and reversed
ird the bottom of the

TIIK KRSCUK OF I.ITTI F. JUD

251

|)it instead of in liu' diri'(ti(iii t'lnni wlii< h the explosion
had come.

For some seconds lie lay niolioiiiiss. Then lie stag-
gered to iiif, iVet and staried lor the jpit lioitoin. 'I'he
heat was intense and the air ( hoking with foul vapor.
1 he deadly foe of the miner, the fatal after-daiii]).
would soon be upon him. His |iiteous cries tor helj)
brought no response save liie roar ami crash ol llie tail-
ing roof ami timbers.

l-eaning for a moment against the side of the level
he founil it yielding, and ^jirang a>vay just in time to
save himself from being overwhelmed. ,

'ihen a fresli terror revealed itself Mis clothes were
on fire I Saturated as they were with oil from his lamii
and from the oil boxes of the coal tubs, the fien e
flame had ignited them and ihey were burning in
many |)laces. In fren/Jed haste he tore off his coat
and vest, burning his hands badly, but ridding himself
of danger from that source. Then lie plunged on
again in the ap])alling darkness, groping his way with
his blistered hands.

Then there fell upon his ears, ])iercing the unfathom-
able gloom, a jiitiful cry of, '• Little Jud I Help,
help! Save little Jud!" l?adly burned, almost
blinded, and bleeding as he was, the instinct of rescue
rose uppermost in the heart of Dannie Robertson, not-
withstanding, and finding the hopelessly bewildered
little trajiper near the shattered fragments of his door
just about to rush off in the wrong direction, he seized
his hand and hurried him along toward the shaft.

252

THE RESCUE OF LITTLE JUD

fill

-},M

It was a frightful jonrnty for two boys to make.
Huge boulders and lumps of coal, sometimes piled up
almost to the roof, obstructed their way, so that thty
had to crawl upon all fours, (heat masses of timber
were tangled in wild confusion. Several men passed
tliem shouting for helj), but in the darkness and ex-
citement the boys were not noticed.

Then while the shaft was still a good distance away,
poor little Jud completely collapsed.

"1 can't take another step." he whimpered, as he
sank down exhausted. "But, oh, Dannie ! you won't
leave me, will you ? "

Tortured by his terrible bums, dizzy from the blow
at til. back of liis head, and weak from loss of blood
and the fierce struggle to escape the danger that threat-
ened on every side, it seemed as though Dannie might
scarce save himself much less help Jud.

Yet the heroic lad did not hesitate for one moment
in respondir.g to the little trapper's apiieal. Stooping
down he pi(-ked him up, lifted him upon his shoulders,
and thus burdened, staggered on again with many a
slip and stumble and fre(iuent halts for rest, until he
too could go no farther, and with a pitiful groi-n of
despair he dropped upon the wet floor.

"I'm clean done out," he said faintly to Jud.
"You go on if you're rested. Maybe you'll find
some of the men. and they'll come back for me."
But now it was Jud's turn to stand by his friend.
"Indeed I won't leave you," he replied with spirit;
" I'll just stay here until you can start again."

.E JUD

wo boys to make,
sometimes piled up
r way, so that they
It masses of timber
ieveral men passed
e darkness and ex-

;ood distance away,

e whimpered, as he
Dannie I you won't

di/./.y from the blow

from loss of blood
e danger that threat-
lough Dannie might

Jud.
ate for one moment
s aiipcal. Stooping
I upon his shoulders,

again with many a
Its for rest, until he
th a pitiful groan of
floor.
;aid faintly to Jud.

Maybe you'll fmd
e back for me."
md by his friend,
le replied with spirit;
start again."

THE RESCUE OF LITTLE JUD

253

For some moments the boys sat in silence, little Jud
holding fast to Dannie's hand. The roaring and crash-
ing had abated somewhat, and the air was not so dreail-
fuUy oppressive, but who coidd tell when there might
be another explosion that would overwhelm them in
hopeless ruin ?

Suddenly Dannie started up, and pointing along the
level, cried out :

" There are lights, Jud. See, they're coming toward
us. They're looking for us."

Sure enough, breaking through the awfid gloom like
twinkling stars of yellow light, the lam})S of the relief
party came into sight and steadily drew near. 15oth
boys sprang to their feet and shouted for joy. The
leaders of the party answereil liack, and in a few min-
utes more Dannie and Jud were among them, answer-
ing the eager ipiestions poured upon them. As quickly
as possible they were carried to the shaft and sent up
to the surface.

Not until then was the extent of Dannie's injuries
discovered. His face, his hands, his head, and the
upper part of his body were cruelly burned, and he
was suffering intense agony. Covering him with a
coat,, they hurried him to his home in a sleigh, and for
three months thereafter he never left his bed. Excru-
ciating as his sufferings were, he bore them with wonder-
ful fortitude and great patience. ( )ne of his most fre-
(pient visitors was Dave Xorris. Jud had spread "broad
the story of his rescue, and Dannie was the hero of
Springhill.

254

THE RESCUK or LITTLE JUO

"I'm right sorry for being so mean," said Dave
hmiibly, the first time he saw i)annie. •• If somebody
•ud give me a good kicking for calling you names it 'ud
just serve me right."

At last Dannie got out into the sunshine again, but
oh, how changed from the sturdy, red-cheeked, curly
haired lad he was before the explosion ! Shocking
scars disfigured his face, scanty patches of hair took
the place of his curls, and his body was thin and weak.

The fLune of his e.xploit, however, went abroad, and
a subscription was raised among the school children of
the county for the procuring of a fine gold medal,
duly inscribed, which was presented to him together
with a well-filled purse.

Neither he nor little Jud ever entered the mme
again. He was appointed to check the coal deliveries
at the surface, and Jud went back to school. They
are greater friends than ever now, and often talk over
the terrible experience they shared together m the
Springhill mine explosion.

m
' 111

1 ^ !

■>..*!!

Ii^„

LE jun

mean," said Dave
lie. •' If somebody
ng you names it 'ud

sunshine again, but
red-cheeked, curly
cplosion ! Shocking
)atches of hair took
y was thin and weak.
;r, went abroad, and
lie school children of
a fine gold medal,
ted to him together

;r entered the mine
ck the coal deliveries
ck to school. They
, and often talk over
red together in the