THE RED -HOT 
 DOLLAR 
 
 AND-OTHER-STORIES-FROM 
 
 THE-BLACfrCAT 
 
 H.D.UMBSTAETTER 
 
 rK98V"IW& 
 
 JACK LONDON 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OP 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
6 
 
THE RED-HOT DOLLAR 
 
THE RED-HOT 
 DOLLAR 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES FROM 
 
 THE BLACK CAT 
 
 By 
 H. D. ^JMBSTAETTER 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 JACK LONDON 
 
 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 
 BOSTON 4* MDCCCCXI 
 
Copyright, 1895, 1896, 1900, 1904, 1909 
 BY THE SHORTSTORY PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 Copyright, 1911 
 BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 
 
 (INCORPORATED) 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 Firet Impression, July, 1911 
 
 Electrotyped and Printed by 
 THE COLONIAL PRESS 
 C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U.S.A. 
 
c 
 
 TO 
 
 119 
 
Introduction 
 
 It is indeed a pleasure to write an in 
 troduction for a collection of tales by 
 Mr. H. D. Umbstaetter. His stories 
 are " Black Cat " stories, and by such 
 designation is meant much. The field 
 of the " Black Cat " is unique, and a 
 " Black Cat " story is a story apart 
 from all other short stories. While Mr. 
 Umbstaetter may not have originated 
 such a type of story, he made such a 
 type possible, and made many a writer 
 possible. I know he made me possible. 
 He saved my literary life, if he did not 
 save my literal life. And I think he 
 was guilty of this second crime, too. 
 
 For months, without the smallest 
 particle of experience, I had been at 
 tempting to write something market- 
 
Introduction 
 
 able. Everything I possessed was in 
 pawn, and I did not have enough to eat. 
 I was sick, mentally and physically, 
 from lack of nourishment. I had once 
 read in a Sunday supplement that the 
 minimum rate paid by the magazines 
 was ten dollars per thousand words. 
 But during all the months devoted to 
 storming the magazine field, I had re 
 ceived back only manuscripts. Still I 
 believed implicitly what I had read in 
 the Sunday supplement. 
 
 As I say, I was at the end of my 
 tether, beaten out, starved, ready to go 
 back to coal-shoveling or ahead to sui 
 cide. Being very sick in mind and 
 body, the chance was in favor of my 
 self-destruction. And then, one morn 
 ing, I received a short, thin letter from 
 a magazine. This magazine had a na 
 tional reputation. It had been founded 
 by Bret Harte. It sold for twenty-five 
 cents a copy. It held a four-thousand- 
 vi 
 
Introduction 
 
 word story of mine, " To the Man on 
 Trail/ I was modest. As I tore the 
 envelope across the end, I expected to 
 find a check for no more than forty dol 
 lars. Instead, I was coldly informed 
 (by the Assistant Sub-scissors, I imag 
 ine), that my story was " available " 
 and that on publication I would be paid 
 for it the sum of five dollars. 
 
 The end was in sight. The Sunday 
 supplement had lied. I was finished- 
 finished as only a very young, very sick, 
 and very hungry young man could be. 
 I planned I was too miserable to plan 
 anything save that I would never write 
 again. And then, that same day, that 
 very afternoon, the mail brought a 
 short, thin letter from Mr. Umbstaetter 
 of the " Black Cat." He told me that 
 the four-thousand-word story sub 
 mitted to him was more lengthy than 
 strengthy, but that if I would give per 
 mission to cut it in half, he would im- 
 vii 
 
Introduction 
 
 mediately send me a check for forty 
 dollars. 
 
 Give permission! It was equivalent 
 to twenty dollars per thousand, or 
 double the minimum rate. Give per 
 mission! I told Mr. Umbstaetter he 
 could cut it down two-halves if he d 
 only send the money along. He did, by 
 return mail. And that is just precisely 
 how and why I stayed by the writing 
 game. Literally, and literarily, I was 
 saved by the " Black Cat " short story. 
 
 To many a writer with a national 
 reputation, the " Black Cat " has been 
 the stepping stone. The marvelous, 
 unthinkable thing Mr. Umbstaetter 
 did, w r as to judge a story on its merits 
 and to pay for it on its merits. Also, 
 and only a hungry writer can appre 
 ciate it, he paid immediately on accept 
 ance. 
 
 Of the stories in this volume, let them 
 speak for themselves. They are true 
 viii 
 
Introduction 
 
 " Black Cat " stories. Personally, I 
 care far more for men than for the best 
 stories ever hatched. Wherefore, this 
 introduction has been devoted to Mr. 
 Umbstaetter, the Man. 
 
 JACK LONDON. 
 GLEN ELLEN, CALIFORNIA, 
 March 25. 1911 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 INTRODUCTION v 
 
 THE RED - HOT DOLLAR .... 1 
 
 THE UNTURNED TRUMP .... 25 
 
 THE REAL THING 39 
 
 WHEN THE CUCKOO CALLED ... 67 
 
 ONE CHANCE IN A MILLION ... 87 
 
 DOODLE S DISCOVERY 103 
 
 KOOTCHIE f 119 
 
 HER EYES, YOUR HONOR .... 129 
 FOR THE SAKE OF TOODLEUMS . . .149 
 
 IN HELL S CANON 165 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE THIRTY MILLIONS. 177 
 
 ASLEEP AT LONE MOUNTAIN 203 
 
THE RED-HOT DOLLAR 
 
THE 
 RED-HOT DOLLAR 
 
 IT lacked three minutes of five by 
 the big clock in the tower when the 
 east-bound Chicago express rum 
 bled into the station at Buffalo. The 
 train had not yet come to a standstill 
 when a hatless man jumped from the 
 platform of the rear sleeping-car and 
 ran across the tracks into the depot 
 restaurant. A few minutes later he 
 reappeared, carrying a cup of coffee in 
 one hand and a small paper bag in the 
 other. 
 
 With these he hurriedly made his 
 way back to the car through a strag 
 gling procession of drowsy tourists, 
 3 
 
The Red -Hot Dollar 
 
 who were taking advantage of the 
 train s five minutes stop to breathe 
 the crisp morning air. The last of 
 these had already resumed his seat 
 when the man without a hat again ap 
 peared at the lunch counter, returned 
 the borrowed dishes, and ordered cof 
 fee for himself. He had just picked up 
 the cup and was raising it to his lips 
 when the conductor s " All aboard 
 rang through the station. 
 
 Leaving the coffee untouched, he 
 thrust a five-dollar bill at the attend 
 ant, grabbed his change, and started 
 in pursuit of the moving train. He had 
 almost reached it when an unlucky 
 stumble sent the coins in his hand roll 
 ing in all directions along the floor. 
 Quickly recovering himself and paying 
 no heed to his loss, he redoubled his 
 efforts, and, though losing ground at 
 every step, kept up the hopeless chase 
 to the end of the station. There he 
 4 
 
The Red -Hot Dollar 
 
 stopped, panting for breath. The slip 
 had proved fatal. He had missed the 
 train! 
 
 As he stood staring wildly through 
 the clouds of dust that rose from the 
 track, a young woman, evidently 
 deeply agitated, suddenly appeared in 
 the doorway of the vanishing car. 
 Upon seeing him, she made frantic at 
 tempts to leap from the platform, when 
 she was seized by a man and pulled 
 back into the car. When the door had 
 closed upon the two the bareheaded 
 man in the station faced about and 
 philosophically muttered: 
 
 " It s fate! " 
 
 Then, after pausing a few moments, 
 as if to collect his thoughts, he slowly 
 retraced his steps to the scene of his 
 mishap and began calmly searching for 
 his lost change. Circling closely about, 
 his eyes scanning the floor, he suc 
 ceeded in recovering first one and then 
 5 
 
The Red -Hot Dollar 
 
 another of the missing coins, until 
 finally, after repeated rounds, he lacked 
 only one dollar of the whole amount. 
 At this point he paused, clinked the 
 recovered coins in his hand, looked 
 at his watch, and then started on a 
 final round. As this failed to reveal 
 the missing piece, he gave up the 
 search, transferred the contents of his 
 hands to his trousers pocket, and 
 started in the direction of the telegraph 
 office. 
 
 He had proceeded perhaps twenty 
 paces when it occurred to him to turn 
 about and cast one more look along the 
 floor. As he did so his eye fell upon a 
 shining object lodged in an opening 
 between the rail and planked floor, a 
 few feet from where he stood. He 
 stooped to examine it, and, seeing that 
 it was the missing coin, reached for it, 
 but found the opening too narrow to 
 admit his fingers. He tried to recover 
 6 
 
The Red -Hot Dollar 
 
 the piece with his pocket-knife, and, 
 failing in this attempt, took his lead- 
 pencil, with which, after repeated at 
 tempts, he succeeded in tossing it upon 
 the floor. 
 
 With an air of subdued satisfaction, 
 he walked away, and was about to con 
 vey the coin to his pocket when a sud 
 den impulse led him to examine it. 
 Holding it up before his eyes, he 
 stopped, scrutinized every detail, and 
 as he turned it over and over the puz 
 zled look on his face changed to one 
 of rigid astonishment. For fully a 
 minute he stood as if transfixed; then, 
 rousing himself and looking anxiously 
 about as if to see if any one had ob 
 served him, he hurried to the cashier s 
 desk in the restaurant, and, producing 
 the bright silver dollar, asked the girl 
 if she happened to remember from 
 whom she received it. 
 
 She didn t remember, but would ex- 
 7 
 
The Red -Hot Dollar 
 
 change it for another, she said, if he 
 wished. Politely declining the offer 
 and apologizing for having troubled 
 her, he said that, as the coin he held in 
 his hand was separating a loving wife 
 from her husband, he wished very 
 much to find some trace of its former 
 owner. The girl looked up, thought for 
 a moment, then, pulling out the cash 
 drawer, and examining its contents, 
 said she might have received it from 
 the conductor of the Lake Shore ex 
 press which had left for Cleveland at 
 3.15. She now recalled that when she 
 came on duty at midnight there was 
 no silver dollar among the change 
 in the cash drawer, and that the 
 only one she remembered receiving 
 was from Sleeping-Car Conductor 
 Parkins. 
 
 The man thanked her and hastened 
 to the telegraph office, where he sent 
 this message : 
 
 8 
 
The Red -Hot Dollar 
 
 " Conductor, East Bound Chicago Ex 
 press, Utica, K Y. 
 
 " Please ask lady in section seven of 
 sleeping-car Catawba to await her hus 
 band at Delavan House, Albany. 
 
 " A. J. Hobart." 
 
 After requesting the operator to 
 kindly rush the despatch, he proceeded 
 to the ticket office, procured a seat in 
 the 5.45 fast mail for Cleveland, and, 
 with his hand clutching the coin in his 
 pocket and his eyes fixed upon the floor, 
 meditatively paced up and down the 
 platform, waiting for the train to ar 
 rive. 
 
 As he did so he was disconcerted to 
 find himself the object of wide-spread 
 curiosity; even the newsboys with the 
 morning papers favored him with an 
 inquiring stare as they passed. Won 
 dering what was amiss, he suddenly put 
 his hand to his head, which furnished 
 9 
 
The Red -Hot Dollar 
 
 an instant explanation. He was hat- 
 less. 
 
 Looking at the big clock, he saw that 
 it lacked ten minutes of train time, and, 
 hastily crossing over to the farther 
 track, he disappeared through the west 
 end of the station. 
 
 Among the passengers who boarded 
 the 5.45 fast mail for Cleveland when 
 it thundered into the station, ten min 
 utes later, was the bareheaded gentle 
 man of a few minutes ago, now wearing 
 a stylish derby. Once in the train, he 
 settled himself in his seat with a sigh 
 of relief and satisfaction. Not until 
 then did the really remarkable charac 
 ter of the situation dawn upon him. 
 On the very day which he had hailed as 
 one of the happiest of his life he was 
 traveling at the rate of about sixty 
 miles an hour away from the girl he 
 loved devotedly and to whom he had 
 been married just seventeen hours. 
 10 
 
The Red -Hot Dollar 
 
 A queer opening of his honeymoon! 
 In his anxiety to get a cup of coffee 
 for his wife, he had lost his hat, then 
 lost his change, and, lastly, lost the 
 train. 
 
 Why did he not follow his bride at 
 once? What mysterious spell had come 
 upon this seventeen-hour bridegroom 
 that he should fly from her as swiftly 
 as the fast express could carry him? 
 His hand held the solution of the prob 
 lem simple, yet unexplainable a 
 silver dollar! It held the secret he 
 must unravel before he could return to 
 her; it was not then that he loved 
 her less, but that this bit of precious 
 metal had suddenly developed an 
 occult power that had turned their 
 paths, for the present, in opposite direc 
 tions. 
 
 At the first stopping place he sent 
 another message, which read as fol 
 lows: 
 
 ii 
 
The Red -Hot Dollar 
 
 " Mrs. A. J. Hobart, Delavan House, 
 
 Albany, N. Y. 
 
 " Cannot possibly reach Albany be 
 fore to-morrow morning. 
 
 " Ansel." 
 
 With his brain filled with excited 
 thoughts, the young man entered the 
 sleeping-car office at Cleveland four 
 hours later and asked for Conductor 
 Parkins. He was told that this official 
 would not be on duty before night, 
 though possibly he might be at his 
 home on St. Clair Street. 
 
 To the address given him the indefat 
 igable young man repaired at once, and 
 found the genial gentleman for whom 
 he sought breakfasting with his family. 
 He kindly gave audience at once to his 
 visitor. 
 
 " This coin, which you gave the 
 cashier of the restaurant in Buffalo," 
 said the latter, revealing it in the palm 
 
 12 
 
The Red -Hot Dollar 
 
 of his hand; " can you tell me from 
 whom you received it? 
 
 Parkins remembered receiving cash 
 from but two passengers the night be 
 fore, one a traveling man who got off 
 in Cleveland, and the other a woman 
 whose destination was Erie. The stran 
 ger might ascertain their names by con 
 sulting the car diagram at the ticket 
 office. " You seem interested in the 
 coin, 7 he added, smiling. 
 
 " I am, for a good reason/ laughed 
 the young man in reply. "It is sep 
 arating a man from his wife." And 
 with these enigmatical words he made 
 his adieu, with thanks, hastened to the 
 ticket office, and an hour later was 
 scouring the city for one Richard 
 Spears. 
 
 The register of the Stillman House 
 
 contained the freshly written name of 
 
 "Richard Spears, Providence, R. L," 
 
 but that gentleman, when found in his 
 
 13 
 
The Red - Hot Dollar 
 
 room showing samples of hardware to 
 a prospective buyer, regretted that he 
 could not throw any light on the par 
 ticular dollar his visitor held up to his 
 gaze, and remembered distinctly that 
 he had given the conductor a two-dollar 
 bill in payment for his berth. He came 
 from a section, he said, where people 
 took no stock in silver dollars. 
 
 It was three o clock in the afternoon 
 when a man got off the train at Erie and 
 inquired of the cabmen and depot mas 
 ter regarding a lady who had arrived 
 on the early train from Buffalo. An 
 hour later he was driving along a coun 
 try road some miles south of the town 
 inquiring for the Wickliffe farm. 
 
 As he finally drove up to the house 
 which was his destination he was con 
 scious of a strange excitement. This, 
 he realized, was probably his only re 
 maining chance to trace the coin by 
 whose mysterious power he had been 
 14 
 
The Red -Hot Dollar 
 
 drawn into this wild chase with the 
 hope of identifying its former owner. 
 He took a hasty note of the general fea 
 tures of the place. It had a comfort 
 able, well-to-do look; a two-story house, 
 white, with green blinds. Most of these 
 were closed, as is customary with coun 
 try houses, but the windows at the right 
 of the big front door, opening on a small 
 porch, were shaded only by white cur 
 tains. There was a sound of voices 
 within as he stepped up to the door and 
 rapped. 
 
 Mrs. Wickliffe, a pleasant-faced little 
 woman, sat surrounded by three chil 
 dren and a neighbor s wife, to whom 
 she was displaying some purchases. As 
 one of the children opened the door, 
 admitting the stranger into this ani 
 mated scene, she was standing before 
 a mirror trying on a new bonnet, which 
 was eliciting extravagant praises from 
 the neighbor. 
 
 15 
 
The Red -Hot Dollar 
 
 After listening to his story, Mrs. 
 Wickliffe said that her memory was so 
 treacherous that she really couldn t say 
 for certain whether or not she gave the 
 conductor the shining dollar, but that if 
 she did she must have received it from 
 her son in Germantown, Pa., from a 
 visit to whose house she had just re 
 turned, and who before her departure 
 had exchanged some money for her. 
 She added that, as she took no interest 
 in coin collecting, a dollar was simply 
 a dollar to her and that she thought a 
 woman was very foolish to take up 
 with a fad which might ruin her hap 
 piness. 
 
 Her unknown caller thought so, too, 
 admired her taste in millinery, took the 
 address of her son, and, clutching the 
 fatal coin more firmly than ever, drove 
 back to Erie, where he boarded the New 
 York night express. 
 
 To the young man who still clutched 
 16 
 
The Red - Hot Dollar 
 
 the silver dollar sleep was impossible. 
 A multitude of exciting fancies crossed 
 Ms brain. The developments he hoped 
 to bring about, the curious solution of 
 the problem, its effect upon his future, 
 and the future of one so dear to him, 
 all this murdered sleep for him as ef 
 fectually as did the crime on Lady Mac 
 beth s soul. It drove him into the 
 smoking-car, where he sank into a 
 seat and planned and conjectured be 
 tween puffs of Havana smoke until 
 the train reached Albany. So com 
 pletely absorbed had he become in the 
 solution of this knotty problem in which 
 his accident of the morning had in 
 volved him, and so convinced was he 
 that the information must be for the 
 time kept a secret, that he actually be 
 gan to dread what was clearly inevi 
 table, the explanation he must 
 shortly make to his wife. 
 
 His inclination was to tell her all. 
 
The Red - Hot Dollar 
 
 His duty to others forbade this. After 
 pondering over the matter, he decided 
 to explain that he had a happy surprise 
 in store for her, one that had an impor 
 tant bearing on their future, and which 
 unfortunately necessitated a change 
 in their plans for a honeymoon in Eu 
 rope. 
 
 This, on reaching the Delavan House, 
 he expressed to a very pretty and very 
 anxious little woman w r ho was await 
 ing him, together with a good many 
 other things not necessary to this story. 
 And, instead of the steamer for Europe, 
 the reunited pair took a train for Phila 
 delphia. Early the next day the young 
 man presented himself at the office of 
 Dr. James Wickliffe, at Germantown, 
 who smilingly admitted having given 
 the shining dollar to his mother two 
 days before. He had received the coin 
 from a patient, a letter-carrier named 
 John Lennon, and remembered it be- 
 18 
 
The Red- Hot Dollar 
 
 cause of the following strange story, 
 related to him by Lennon himself. 
 
 A few days before, the carrier was 
 engaged in delivering mail from door 
 to door along Vine Street, Philadelphia, 
 when a zigzag trip across the street and 
 back again brought him to the narrow 
 stairway of a dingy brick house, in front 
 of which hung an enormous brass key 
 bearing the word " Locksmith. " Here 
 he paused to draw a little parcel from 
 his bundle. As he did so he heard some 
 thing fall with a metallic clink upon the 
 stone pavement. He looked and saw 
 that it was a silver dollar, which rolled 
 toward the gutter and came to a stop 
 close by the curb. Hastening to pick it 
 up, he instantly dropped it with a cry 
 of pain. 
 
 TJie coin was almost red hot! 
 
 The letter-carrier stood nursing his 
 hand and thinking for two or three min 
 utes. Silver dollars do not commonly 
 19 
 
The Red - Plot Dollar 
 
 drop out of the sky. But that this one 
 should thus fall like a meteorite in a 
 condition too heated for handling was 
 certainly more than surprising it was 
 astounding! The man looked up at the 
 dingy brick house and examined it at 
 tentively, noting that the ground floor 
 was occupied as a green grocery and 
 that all of the windows were shut save 
 one in the third story. 
 
 Then he kicked the mysterious coin 
 into a puddle, fished it out again with 
 his fingers, and put it into his trousers 
 pocket. He was about to investigate 
 further, when some small boys called 
 his attention to the fact that it was the 
 first day of April, whereupon he pro 
 ceeded on his way. He gave no further 
 thought to the matter until that night, 
 when he found that his thumb and fore 
 finger had been so badly burned as to 
 require treatment. 
 
 The next morning he called upon the 
 20 
 
The Red - Hot Dollar 
 
 doctor, who dressed the painful hand 
 and received the mysterious coin in pay 
 ment for his services. 
 
 That night, behind locked doors in one 
 of the officers rooms of the United 
 States Mint in Chestnut Street, two 
 men were engaged in a long whispered 
 conference. The wife of one of the men, 
 as she sat in her room in the Continental 
 Hotel, anxiously waiting for her hus 
 band, was beginning to wonder whether, 
 after all, marriage was a failure ! 
 
 Two days later, in speaking of the 
 seizure of over forty thousand bogus 
 silver dollars and the clever capture of 
 three of the most dangerous counter 
 feiters that ever attacked the currency 
 of the United States, the Daily Neivs 
 said: 
 
 " The most remarkable part of the 
 whole story is that one of the coins, 
 fresh from the machine of one of the 
 counterfeiters, fell out of a third-story 
 
 21 
 
The Red - Hot Dollar 
 
 window near which he was working, 
 was picked up while almost red hot by 
 a letter-carrier, and passed as genuine 
 through various hands until it reached 
 Buffalo, where, by the merest accident, 
 it came into the possession of Mr. Ansel 
 Hobart of the Secret Service. That 
 gentleman noticed an imperfection at 
 one point of its rim, and succeeded in 
 tracing the coin to the headquarters of 
 the gang on Vine Street in this city, 
 where, under the cloak of a locksmith 
 shop and green grocery business, six 
 hundred of the spurious coins were 
 turned out daily. So admirably were 
 these counterfeits executed as to defy 
 scrutiny save by experts of the Govern 
 ment. The coins were not cast in molds 
 after the ordinary fashion, but were 
 struck with a die, and plated so thickly 
 with silver as to withstand tests by 
 acids. The defect which led to the dis 
 covery was found only in the one coin 
 22 
 
The Red -Hot Dollar 
 
 already spoken of, and it is supposed 
 that it was this defect that caused the 
 piece to spring from the finishing ma 
 chine and fall out of the window." 
 
 And the New York newspapers of 
 three days later contained the intelli 
 gence that the White Star steamer 
 " Majestic," which sailed for Liverpool 
 that day, had among her passengers Mr. 
 and Mrs. Ansel J. Hobart, of Chicago, 
 Illinois. 
 
THE UNTURNED TRUMP 
 
The Unturned Trump 
 
 THE ferry-boat, " Rappahan- 
 nock," had an experience in 
 the winter of 1873 that will 
 never be forgotten by any of her pas 
 sengers. 
 
 During one of her regular trips be 
 tween New York and Brooklyn this 
 boat suddenly quitted her respectable, 
 though somewhat monotonous, career, 
 and became a common tramp, without 
 port or destination. 
 
 The day awoke in fog such as the 
 oldest inhabitant had never seen. The 
 East River was blocked with ice and 
 soon became a shrieking bedlam of 
 groping and bewildered craft, whose 
 pilots could scarcely see their hands 
 before their faces. 
 
 27 
 
The Unturned Trump 
 
 At half past nine the " Rappahan- 
 nock " left Brooklyn, well laden with 
 passengers, and started on her custom 
 ary trip almost directly across the 
 river a very short and usually easy 
 voyage. Before even reaching the 
 middle of the stream, however, the ice 
 and fog had thrown her completely out 
 of her course. Back and forth, up and 
 down stream, the pilot vainly groped, 
 amid the shrieking whistles, ringing of 
 fog bells, and loud crash of ice boul 
 ders, until, in the confused clangor, he 
 had entirely lost his bearings. 
 
 When, after long and perilous bat 
 tling with ice jams and many hair 
 breadth escapes from collisions, he sud 
 denly sighted the landing place on the 
 New York side, he found it occupied by 
 a sister boat, which had been driven 
 there to avoid destruction. He backed 
 out, only to be lost again, and for three 
 hours this boat, now become a mere 
 28 
 
The Unturned Trump 
 
 tramp, wandered aimlessly up and 
 down the East River with its load of 
 excited passengers, whose emotions 
 ranged anywhere between the rage and 
 impatience of the belated Wall Street 
 speculator, to whom the delay might 
 mean a loss of fifty thousand dollars, 
 to the hysteria of a nervous little 
 woman who had left her baby alone at 
 home, and who begged the other help 
 less passengers for the love of Heaven 
 to help her set her feet once more on 
 land. 
 
 Between these two extremes of im 
 patience and excitement was a small 
 proportion of passengers who re 
 mained calm, even endeavoring to 
 while away the time by exchanging 
 pleasantries and making wagers as to 
 the time of their deliverance. Among 
 these was a group of men in the cabin 
 who, after having read and re-read the 
 morning papers, were casting about for 
 29 
 
The Unturned Trump 
 
 some other method of killing time. 
 One suggested a game of cards. 
 
 " Cards! " laughed one of his com 
 panions in misery. " Who d carry 
 cards on a ferry-boat? Who, out 
 side of a lunatic asylum, would 
 start on a ten minutes voyage pro 
 vided with games to pass away the 
 time?" 
 
 " Here is a euchre deck which is at 
 your service." 
 
 The speaker, evidently a globe-trot 
 ter, drew from under the bench a trav 
 eling-bag, so much worn and embel 
 lished by tags, labels, and hieroglyphics 
 that it resembled some old veteran 
 just returned from the wars and still 
 covered with surgeons plasters. From 
 this he produced a pack of cards and 
 tendered it to the man who had sug 
 gested a game. 
 
 " Certainly, if you will join us; but 
 what shall we do for a table? " 
 30 
 
The Unturned Trump 
 
 " Here is a camp-stool," said the 
 man of the world. And in a moment 
 four men were sitting around it, cut 
 ting for deal, which chanced to fall to 
 the stranger. 
 
 The cards were distributed rapidly, 
 and the dealer was about to turn the 
 trump when a loud shriek pierced the 
 air and a woman opposite suddenly 
 sank fainting to the floor. 
 
 The tension among the passengers 
 had become so great that a panic 
 seemed imminent. 
 
 " Don t be alarmed, gentlemen; it 
 is nothing serious," said the dealer 
 calmly. " The lady simply caught 
 sight of her own frightened face in the 
 mirror, and the shock caused her to 
 faint. It reminds me of a thrilling ex 
 perience an American traveler had 
 while bumping through Syria. But, 
 pardon me, the game! " 
 
 Once more he made a movement to 
 
The Unturned Trump 
 
 turn the trump, when one of the party 
 exclaimed: 
 
 " There can t be a better time or 
 place than this for telling a thrilling 
 experience." 
 
 " Yes," said another; " do give us 
 some other kind of bumping than we 
 are having here. Let s have the story 
 before we begin the game." 
 
 The stranger leaned back, passed his 
 cigar case, and, having lighted one 
 himself, began: 
 
 "It is an unwritten law among the 
 wild Bedouins east of the Red Sea that 
 if an infidel traveler is attended on his 
 journey by one of the faithful he is safe 
 from the attacks of Mohammedan rob 
 bers. As long as the Frank/ as all 
 foreigners are called, is under the pro 
 tection of the Star and Crescent, the 
 rascal s hand is stayed, and as they 
 meet, the villain, who would otherwise 
 show no quarter, salutes with the grave 
 32 
 
The Unturned Trump 
 
 suavity of a courtier. But let that 
 same traveler become separated from 
 the Arab guard that he has bribed to 
 give him safe conduct through his own 
 bandit-infested country, and he be 
 comes legitimate prey. He will be 
 plundered and perhaps killed, or, 
 worse, if the robber thinks that cruelty 
 will extort any secrets of hidden spoil, 
 tortured or held for ransom, with each 
 day s delay losing a few fingers, which 
 are forwarded to the captive s friends 
 to signify that the rascals mean busi 
 ness. 
 
 " The party in which this American 
 was traveling had been entering Syria 
 from the south, and were progressed 
 some twelve days from the sacred base 
 of old Sinai. At a place called Bir-es- 
 Sheba, on the regular caravan route to 
 and from Mecca from the north, they 
 heard of some interesting archeological 
 treasures just unearthed some two 
 33 
 
The Unturned Trump 
 
 days journey to the east, and, having 
 made the detour, the party snugly en 
 camped by the side of a beautiful 
 stream under the shadow of the Tubal 
 chain of mountains. 
 
 " The treasures were vastly exag 
 gerated, as is the custom with every 
 thing Oriental, and they soon deter 
 mined to turn back to the caravan 
 route and i bump ? on up into Syria 
 bumping being the familiar term for 
 camel riding, and a very expressive 
 word at that. But on the afternoon of 
 the first resting-day some one sug 
 gested a jaunt to a famous old well, 
 where it was said were some very an 
 cient tumuli. But, knowing the Bed 
 ouins to be conscientious liars, and sick 
 of this unrewarded chase for phantom 
 treasures, the American begged to be 
 left behind in charge of two tents, 
 which were pitched side by side on the 
 bank of the stream. 
 34 
 
The Unturned Trump 
 
 " This was at last agreed upon, the 
 whole party except himself going off 
 on their three days trip, leaving their 
 comrade stretched at full length on a 
 rug, his narghili, or water pipe, lighted 
 for company. 
 
 " This Oriental atmosphere, gentle 
 men, is a powerful drug. Do what you 
 will to fight against it, its subtle charm 
 holds you captive. The man suc 
 cumbed to its influences and went fast 
 asleep. 
 
 " Out of this sweet, trance-like re 
 pose he suddenly bounded into the hor 
 rible consciousness of a torturing pain 
 in one of his hands, as though some 
 wild beast w T as crunching the bones. 
 But, as he writhed to his knees to grap 
 ple with the foe, he saw instead three 
 swarthy, evil-faced Bedouins bending 
 over him with ghoulish glee. One had 
 just cut off, with a hideous dirk-knife, 
 the first three fingers of his left hand. 
 35 
 
The Unturned Trump 
 
 In an instant it flashed upon him that 
 these were to be sent to his friends with 
 a demand for ransom. He was correct 
 in this supposition, for no sooner had 
 the bleeding hand been rudely ban 
 daged than two of his captors set out 
 upon this mission, leaving him in care 
 of the third, who was heavily armed. 
 
 " No one knew better than the pris 
 oner how impossible such a ransom 
 would be. His fellow-travelers had 
 brought as little money into Syria as 
 would meet their actual necessities 
 while there. He therefore began to 
 cast desperately about in his mind for 
 a loophole of escape before the fellows 
 should return with these unsatisfac 
 tory tidings, which would result, no 
 doubt, in further mutilations. 
 
 " As his gaze swept the tent for 
 something suggesting a plan for deliv 
 erance, he saw it had been gutted of 
 everything except two articles, his 
 36 
 
The Unturned Trump 
 
 light silk coat, which hung upon the 
 partition between the two tents, and 
 the tourist s shaving mirror which it 
 concealed. The coat had been over 
 looked because it was as grimy as the 
 tent wall itself. 
 
 " In moments like this one grasps at 
 straws. As it is said a drowning per 
 son reviews his past experiences per 
 fectly in a brief moment, so to this man, 
 facing desperate odds, came a desper 
 ate suggestion. 
 
 " He called loudly on a supposed pro 
 tector in the adjoining tent to come to 
 the window, and prove to his captor 
 that he was under protection of a Mos 
 lem. As he spoke he slowly drew the 
 coat from before the mirror in front of 
 which the sheik was standing. 
 
 " No words can express the unutter 
 able consternation pictured upon that 
 blazing face, livid with fright and won 
 der, as for the first time it saw its own 
 37 
 
The Unturned Trump 
 
 awful reflection, not knowing it was its 
 own. One instant he stood stock-still, 
 fascinated, horrified, overwhelmed ; 
 then collapsed, just as that lady did 
 but a moment ago, and the American 
 quickly possessed himself of his cap 
 tor s arms and was master of the situ 
 ation. 
 
 " And now, gentlemen," concluded 
 the story teller, " we will have our 
 game." 
 
 As he spoke he again reached for 
 ward to turn the trump. There was a 
 quickly drawn breath of horror from 
 those who observed him, for the first 
 three fingers of his left hand were 
 missing. 
 
 Before he could turn the card, a sav 
 age lurch of the boat, accompanied by 
 the creaking of timbers, announced the 
 arrival of the " Rappahannock " at her 
 New York slip and the trump was 
 never turned. 
 
 38 
 
THE REAL THING 
 
 39 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 JUST before midnight on the ninth 
 day of December in the year 1881, 
 Malcolm Joyce, of New Haven, 
 made the acquaintance of the real 
 thing. Prior to that time he had been 
 a sceptic. At the time of his startling 
 experience, he was in San Francisco, 
 visiting friends whose home was 
 charmingly situated near the summit 
 of Nob Hill, that conspicuous eminence 
 on California Street, once the scene of 
 " sand-lot " riots, and famous for its 
 palaces of millionaires. 
 
 Joyce, having spent the evening with 
 his host at a theatre party and an hour 
 at whist, had glanced over a packet of 
 London papers, smoked a cigar, and 
 turned off the light preparatory to go- 
 41 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 ing to bed. He stepped to the large bay 
 window of his chamber, to enjoy for 
 a moment the impressive panorama 
 spread below him in the sombre si 
 lence. 
 
 There before him, just across the 
 bay, whose fantastically scattered 
 lights of red and green serve as guiding 
 stars to the mariner passing through 
 the Golden Gate, lay Oakland, the 
 beautiful city of sunny homes. To his 
 left loomed up with awe-inspiring 
 grandeur through the dim shadows the 
 palatial residences of the immediate 
 vicinity, each dark and silent in its 
 solitary majesty. To the right, in the 
 very shadow of this manifestation of 
 Occidental millions, and but a block 
 distant, lay acres of dismal roofs, shel 
 tering never-ending scenes of Oriental 
 contrast Chinatown with its fifty 
 thousand souls, its underground opium 
 joints and gambling hells, its temples 
 42 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 of wealth and piety and dens of vice 
 and penury. 
 
 As Joyce turned from the contempla 
 tion of the strange contrast presented 
 by the scene, the silence of which was 
 broken only by the ceaseless buzz of 
 the invisible cables in the street below, 
 he was startled by the signal gongs of 
 two cable cars which passed each other 
 directly in front of the house. Almost 
 unconsciously he returned to his posi 
 tion at the window and paused to watch 
 the one disappear over the summit, 
 while the other as speedily descended 
 the long, steep hill, so steep that its 
 pavement, never trodden by horses 
 hoofs, is grass-grown in the crevices. 
 He stood but a moment and then, real 
 izing the lateness of the hour, turned 
 abruptly to go to bed. As he did so, 
 his eyes swept once more the hilltop 
 just beyond. 
 
 Horror! Was he asleep? Did he 
 43 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 dream? No. From the tower half-way 
 down the hill came the first stroke of 
 midnight, assuring him that he was 
 awake. With an icy shudder, chained 
 to the spot, he continued to gaze at a 
 ghastly spectacle, clearly outlined upon 
 the gloomy background by the light of 
 the street lamp a block above. 
 
 He saw it moving a human skele 
 ton with uplifted arm and flowing 
 shroud, all ghastly white, all too real 
 to be mistaken, from the gleaming skull 
 to the fluttering robe. He saw it ap 
 proaching nearer and nearer gliding 
 swiftly and noiselessly through the air, 
 above the middle of the street. He 
 tried to move, but could not, his eyes 
 refused to leave the hideous sight. He 
 saw it coming, closer and closer. It 
 would pass below him, not a hundred 
 feet away. 
 
 Determined that will and courage 
 should conquer doubt and fear, sum- 
 44 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 monmg all his strength of nerve, he 
 pressed closer to the window, so close 
 that his face fairly touched the glass 
 and he saw a human skeleton soaring 
 through the air. 
 
 Now, Malcolm Joyce was not easily 
 frightened. No one had ever accused 
 him of cowardice, and they who knew 
 him readily believed his statement that 
 he enjoyed solitude. Yet, as he stood 
 there in the darkness, his eyes fixed 
 upon the vanishing figure, he felt some 
 how that he should welcome company, 
 particularly the company of another 
 not easily frightened. So strong was 
 this impression of the occasional disad 
 vantage of solitude that without delay 
 he relighted the gas and stepped before 
 the mirror. The deathly pallor and 
 agitation that confronted him was be 
 wildering. 
 
 As he tried to calm himself and 
 change the current of his thoughts he 
 45 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 recalled the " spook test " of an old 
 hunter whom he had met in New South 
 Wales. 
 
 This test consisted in asking oneself 
 three questions: " Are you awake, are 
 you sober, are you sane? By the time 
 these queries are propounded and an 
 swered, the ghost on trial will have 
 proved itself an illusion. 
 
 Without hesitation Joyce answered 
 the first two questions he was un 
 questionably awake and sober. But 
 was he in his right mind? He picked 
 up a paper and read for a moment, but 
 failed to grasp a single idea! He 
 turned the page. He could read, but 
 he could not understand! He jumped 
 up, dazed, frightened, trembling, per 
 spiring. Was his mind giving way 
 under the strain it had undergone? 
 Once more he looked at the first page 
 of the paper before him. It was " Lon 
 don Punch "! He was sane! 
 46 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 Hardly had he satisfied himself of 
 the success of his test, when the famil 
 iar signals of two passing cars again 
 sounded in his ears. With the air of 
 a man convinced that the cause of fear 
 and suffering has been groundless, he 
 lighted a fresh cigar, stepped briskly 
 to the window, and, puffing slowly and 
 regularly, calmly watched the course 
 of the diverging cars. As the distance 
 between them increased, he followed 
 the one going down-hill until it had 
 reached a point nearly two blocks dis 
 tant, and then turned his attention to 
 the summit over which the other had 
 already disappeared. 
 
 As he sharply watched the critical 
 spot his anxiety decreased as, after 
 some moments, no signs of the un 
 earthly sight appeared. 
 
 Of course, he reasoned, while the ob 
 ject he had beheld some ten or fifteen 
 minutes before might never appear 
 47 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 again, it still might have been a ghost. 
 A sensation akin to doubt stole over 
 him. 
 
 But, whether or not his eyes had, 
 after all, played him a trick, he was 
 now ready to go to bed. 
 
 He drew down the shade of the win 
 dow to his left and had grasped the 
 cord of the one directly before him, 
 when his arm fell to his side as if par 
 alyzed. With a loud whirr the sud 
 denly released shade rushed upward, 
 and there, not thirty yards in front of 
 and below him, he beheld the shocking 
 spectre gliding up-hill. 
 
 He stood in rigid horror, held by the 
 grim monstrosity. 
 
 Inclining slightly forward as it 
 soared past, with bony arm upstretched 
 to heaven, its bleached death s head 
 bare and shining, the snowy drapery 
 enshrouding its skeleton form in a si 
 lent flutter, it presented to Joyce s 
 48 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 view the most horribly revolting and 
 yet fascinating spectacle he had ever 
 beheld, and one that he never forgot. 
 In the face of this further proof all his 
 doubts vanished, and he felt absolutely 
 certain that he had seen what is here 
 described. 
 
 But, even before the frightful object 
 had finally passed from his view, he 
 experienced one of those sudden revul 
 sions of feeling by which fear becomes 
 courage, and anxiety is followed by 
 mental calm, and thus reconciled to a 
 new belief, he went to bed. 
 
 When he awoke on the following 
 morning, he decided to say nothing to 
 any one of his strange experience until 
 he had taken counsel with an intimate 
 bachelor friend, a lawyer. He felt re 
 lieved, therefore, to find the breakfast 
 chat confined to topics entirely foreign 
 to the spirit world. Evidently none 
 of the family had been disturbed by 
 49 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 ghostly visions. As he looked across 
 the table into the eyes of a bewitching 
 girl, he almost shuddered at the fleeting 
 thought that the gruesome nocturnal 
 sight he had seen might have been a 
 warning an omen of some dread ca 
 lamity that might dash forever the 
 hope he entertained with regard to her. 
 It was to see her again to be at her 
 side and, if possible, to woo her for his 
 own that he was in San Francisco. 
 
 Two years previous they had first 
 met, on the opposite coast of the con 
 tinent. While ranging in the Maine 
 woods, Joyce had climbed Mount Royce 
 and Speckle Mountain and visited the 
 tourmaline mines, and on one of his 
 woodland tramps had come across a 
 college student with one foot inextri 
 cably caught in a bear trap. Fortu 
 nately, a legging buckle and a stout 
 branch of undergrowth, caught at the 
 same time, had prevented the terrible 
 50 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 teeth of the trap from crushing the 
 bone, and the young fellow, a brother 
 of Joyce s future idol, was promptly 
 released, nearly exhausted from the 
 shock of his adventure and the fatigue 
 of his fruitless struggles to escape. 
 
 The gratitude of the rescued youth 
 and his parents resulted in an invita 
 tion to Joyce to visit the family, which 
 he accepted with much alacrity, after 
 having seen the pretty daughter of the 
 house. 
 
 Ten o clock found Malcolm Joyce at 
 the office of his friend, the lawyer. He 
 had expected Lucien Nelson to be scep 
 tical and full of good-natured pleas 
 antry and was therefore prepared for 
 the reception accorded his unusual tale. 
 He paid no attention to his friend s in 
 timation that he had seen the ghost 
 while under spiritual influence, re 
 jected a proposition for a writ of eject 
 ment to be served upon it, and finally 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 aroused Nelson s interest and secured 
 the promise of his co-operation in 
 an armed attempt, to be made that 
 night, to investigate the ghastly mys 
 tery. 
 
 Accordingly, twelve hours later, the 
 two young men, each with a revolver, 
 were snugly ensconced in a dark cor 
 ner of the bay window of Joyce s cham 
 ber on Nob Hill. For .two hours Mal 
 colm was obliged to endure all the 
 thinly veiled ridicule, biting sarcasm 
 and ironical humor that a friend alone 
 dare utter, so that when he at length 
 turned up the light for a moment to 
 make sure of the time, he was glad to 
 find that a few moments more would 
 bring the hour of midnight the tra 
 ditional time for ghostly visitations. 
 
 The sudden appearance of the cable 
 
 cars that passed each other on the hill 
 
 at twelve served as a signal for another 
 
 outbreak of raillery on the part of Nel- 
 
 52 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 son, but Joyce, in no mood for further 
 banter, kept his eyes upon the progress 
 of the cars, searching the steep incline 
 for the unearthly object which he 
 hoped, yet dreaded, to behold. The 
 downward car had not yet passed the 
 cross-walk three blocks below, when, 
 with a feeling of awe which he could 
 not have described, mingled with a sort 
 of lively satisfaction, he saw again the 
 animated skeleton flash before his eyes. 
 Emerging, apparently, from the very 
 earth, in the rear and a little to the left 
 of the departing car, it rose until its 
 full length stood suspended in the air. 
 Then, after a slight, wavering pause, 
 it came gliding up the hill. 
 
 His experience of the previous night 
 thus confirmed, he was able to control 
 his voice and nerves as he said, coolly, 
 to his companion, while dreading what 
 the reply might be : 
 
 " Nelson, here s a friend of yours 
 53 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 coming up street; better step out and 
 speak to him." 
 
 To his immense relief, the trembling 
 voice of his friend exclaimed at his 
 ear: 
 
 " Great God! A ghost for sure! " 
 
 Nelson s horrified tone and percepti 
 ble shudder left no doubt of his state 
 of mind, and it was with much satis 
 faction that Joyce seized the opportu 
 nity to turn several of the lawyer s 
 gibes against him. 
 
 Ignoring these sarcasms, Nelson ex 
 claimed again, emphatically: 
 
 " That was a ghost, as sure as I live 
 
 - and I should like to see more of 
 him." 
 
 " He ll very likely be back in ten or 
 fifteen minutes, same as last night." 
 
 " Well, then, let s tackle him, on his 
 way down." 
 
 They shook hands, and neither spoke 
 again until they had reached the side- 
 54 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 walk, where, three blocks farther down, 
 they concealed themselves in the deep 
 shadows of a spacious doorway and 
 awaited the expected return of the mid 
 night visitant. 
 
 No one who has not had a similar 
 experience can fully comprehend the 
 thrill of suspense at such a time. He 
 may have sought a human foe, in the 
 open or in ambush, have stood guard 
 at a solitary camp fire in the silent 
 night, or passed a weary vigil in the 
 jungle, prepared to meet any form of 
 savage beast, but he is still a stranger 
 to the sensation that comes to him who, 
 in firm belief, awaits the coming of a 
 midnight ghost. 
 
 As the passage of the cable cars on 
 their trip next after midnight had her 
 alded the return of the spectre on the 
 previous night, Joyce warned his friend 
 to be prepared for that event. 
 
 " After the car has gone and the 
 55 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 coast is clear and quiet, go for it," he 
 commanded. 
 
 " You bet! " was the answer, " and 
 don t forget to be quick on the trig- 
 ger." 
 
 At that instant a sharp tapping on 
 a window, apparently a block above 
 them, met their ears, and at the same 
 time they saw the downward car 
 mounting the hillside. As it ap 
 proached, the noise increased to a loud 
 rattle and then suddenly stopped. The 
 car had no sooner passed and the hill 
 become bare than the ghost appeared 
 at the summit, gliding swiftly in mid 
 air, as on the previous occasions. 
 
 " There he comes! " the watchers ex 
 claimed together, in excited whispers. 
 " Remember now," whispered Nelson, 
 " the moment he gets close enough 
 we ll rush out, and when I say, Shoot! 
 you pump lead into that snowy skull, 
 while I ladle some pellets between his 
 56 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 ribs. Let him have it six times in suc 
 cession. And don t forget, it s got to 
 be all accidental, we were frenzied 
 with fear and shot in self-defence. 
 Don t forget that, for we may have to 
 swear to it." 
 
 By this time the skeleton was flying 
 toward the block in which they were 
 concealed. 
 
 " Now, then, rush for the middle of 
 the street! " 
 
 They rushed, experiencing an awful 
 moment, but when still within some 
 feet of the apparition, a dark figure, 
 armed with a long club, darted sud 
 denly from a doorway on the opposite 
 side of the street, and in another mo 
 ment the spectre lay prostrate on the 
 ground. Before the ghost hunters fully 
 realized what had happened, they 
 stood, breathless, behind the newcomer, 
 as he, unconscious of their presence, 
 stooped over his fallen quarry. 
 57 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 " What are you doing here? " sternly 
 demanded Nelson, grasping the ghost- 
 destroyer by the arm. Starting at the 
 touch, the latter sprang forward in a 
 frantic attempt to escape, but finding 
 himself hopelessly detained, he stood 
 staring wildly at his captors. " Speak. 
 What are you doing here? " repeated 
 the lawyer. 
 
 " Him not my glost," was the meek 
 reply, in the trembling tones of a fright 
 ened Chinaman. 
 
 " Oh, very well. Pick him up and 
 come with us; you are our prisoner." 
 
 Without further words, the terrified 
 Chinaman, carrying his prize, was 
 placed between his captors and 
 marched quickly to Kearney Street, 
 near by, where, behind locked doors, 
 the two friends proceeded to investi 
 gate an affair that had excited and 
 agitated them as nothing had ever done 
 before. 
 
 58 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 Prostrate upon the floor, flat and 
 motionless, their previously formidable 
 foe was no longer impressive. True, 
 the skull and skeleton arm, chalked to 
 a ghastly whiteness, were still suggest 
 ive of horror, but when the drapery was 
 lifted the anatomy disclosed was of 
 such ludicrous simplicity and harmless- 
 ness that the astonishment of the in 
 quisitors brought a faint smile even to 
 the pale yellow face of the frightened 
 heathen. 
 
 Briefly described, the plan and speci 
 fications of the ghost were as follows: 
 A human skull was securely attached to 
 one end of a piece of inch gas pipe 
 twelve feet long. The other end of the 
 pipe was flattened out, to permit its 
 passing readily through the grip slot 
 of the cable road, and was provided 
 with a pair of self -acting spring nip 
 pers, ingeniously constructed of nickel, 
 and so affixed as to act in the capacity 
 59 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 of a grip. Front and rear guards held 
 the structure upright. Just below the 
 skull the pipe passed through a strip 
 of board, two feet long by three inches 
 wide, which served as shoulders. Over 
 this the white shroud, which fell to 
 within two feet of the ground, was 
 loosely draped, while to one end of the 
 strip the skeleton arm was fastened. 
 Lower down, at right angles with the 
 first, was a second board, with rounded 
 ends, which served to give the drapery 
 a natural spread, as well as to prevent 
 a fracture of the skull when the figure 
 was suddenly felled by its operators, as 
 the two friends had seen it. 
 
 " John/ said Joyce, after the ex 
 amination had been made, " look at 
 these two revolvers, and then tell 
 us what you ve got to say for your 
 self." 
 
 " Him not my glost," repeated the 
 Chinaman, sullenly. 
 60 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 Whose is it, then? 
 
 " Him Wun Lung glost." 
 
 " Who is Wun Lung, and where does 
 he live? " 
 
 " Him no livee him dead." 
 
 " Oh! So this is his ghost. Why did 
 you knock it down? " 
 
 " Wun Lung say, * go catchee 
 glost. " 
 
 " Here! " interrupted Nelson, " you 
 just said Wun Lung was dead." 
 
 Joyce waved his hand with some im 
 patience. " What s your name? " he 
 continued. 
 
 " My name Sing Lo me velly good 
 cook me " 
 
 " Hold on, Lo. Nelson, I ll match 
 you pennies to see which of us is to give 
 Sing Lo a dollar to tell us the whole 
 story about the ghost." 
 
 " I ll go you," grumbled the lawyer, 
 " but it isn t good law." 
 
 " Here you are, Sing Lo. Here s 
 61 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 your dollar now tell us everything, 
 and we ll let you go." 
 
 66 You givee me back Wun Lung 
 glost? " 
 
 " Yes go ahead." 
 
 This assurance, with the sight of 
 the broad coin and the disappear 
 ance of the pistols, worked wonders 
 with the hitherto quaking and evasive 
 laundryman, and in his best English 
 and most straightforward manner 
 circumlocutory as it was he related 
 the particulars of an interesting 
 tale. 
 
 It appeared that Wun Lung whose 
 mortal remains the ingenious contri 
 vance captured had been meant to sim 
 ulate had been the proprietor of a 
 laundry on Dupont Street, a profitable 
 spot, the site of which appealed to 
 Michael O Brien, a local politician, as 
 very desirable for the location of a sa 
 loon, but his offer to purchase was de- 
 62 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 clined and his threats disregarded. The 
 disappointed Irishman therefore pro 
 ceeded to extreme measures, broke up 
 the laundry and shot the owner, who 
 was Sing Lo s employer, but was 
 promptly released with a five-dollar 
 fine by a compatriot on the bench, on 
 the ground of self-defence. When 
 O Brien established his residence and 
 saloon on the dead Chinaman s prem 
 ises, a junior Wun Lung conceived the 
 ingenious idea of frightening the mur 
 derer away with the " ghost " of his 
 victim. The ghastly dummy was con 
 structed and sent flying up and down 
 the hill at midnight, being attached to 
 and removed from the cable by Sing Lo 
 and his fellow-laundryman, Ah Wing, 
 while Wun Lung himself roused the 
 saloon keeper from drunken slumber 
 by a sharp tapping on his window by 
 means of a " tick-tack," as boys call 
 an ingenious combination of string, pin, 
 63 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 and nail. The appeal to the fears of 
 O Brien and the identity of the spec 
 tre were emphasized by the solitary 
 bleached hand of the apparition, the 
 departed Wun having had but a sin 
 gle arm during the latter years of his 
 life. 
 
 " Why did your friend make this 
 contrivance of nickel? " asked Nelson, 
 with the instinctive inquisitiveness of 
 his legal training. 
 
 Sing Lo grinned as he replied: 
 
 " Wun Lung say, Put-um nickel in 
 slot, Ilishman see-um glost. 
 
 With an additional dollar, designated 
 by Nelson as " witness fees," and with 
 his late employer s ghost under his 
 arm, the Chinaman was released and 
 drifted out into the darkness of China 
 town. 
 
 Half an hour later, Joyce was on his 
 way to the home of his friends. He 
 paused a moment at Dupont Street, and 
 64 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 there, near the corner, read the follow 
 ing sign: 
 
 MICHAEL O BRIEN 
 
 CHOICE WINES AND LIQUORS 
 
 Some few months afterwards, on re 
 turning from his honeymoon, which 
 was passed among the grand scenery 
 of Washington and Oregon, he found 
 himself again near the corner of Du- 
 pont Street, with his bride. With a 
 start of remembrance and recognition, 
 he looked up. The imposing black and 
 gold of the liquor sign had disappeared, 
 and in its place, in gold and red, a 
 smaller board bore the significant in 
 scription: 
 
 WUN LUNG 
 
 CHINESE LAUNDRY 
 
The Real Thing 
 
 It was evident to Malcolm Joyce that 
 on the night of his memorable adven 
 ture Mr. Michael O Brien had taken 
 the bony semblance of his Celestial vic 
 tim for The Real Thing. 
 
 66 
 
WHEN THE CUCKOO CALLED 
 
 67 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 THE announcement that London 
 music hall audiences are losing 
 their heads and hearts over 
 " The Girl with the Guitar " causes 
 Mr. Seymour Gaston to smile as he 
 looks down upon the world from his 
 offices on the nineteenth floor of a New 
 York sky-scraper. Mr. Gaston is an 
 ingenious, much traveled young bach 
 elor with a history and a fortune. He 
 recently invented a folding fire-escape, 
 which also has a history and in which 
 another fortune is said to await him. 
 And " The Girl with the Guitar " is 
 one of the two Zillerthaler sisters, 
 whose permanent address is unknown 
 and who receive two hundred guineas 
 a night for presenting their Tyrolean 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 second-sight seance. To such an extent 
 do these mysterious maidens from the 
 mountains hypnotize the public that 
 they appear nightly at four different 
 music halls. At the Alhambra they 
 open the performance at eight o clock, 
 after which they are rushed by their 
 manager in an automobile to the stage 
 door of the second music hall, where 
 they appear at eight forty-five, and so 
 on, winding up at the Aquarium at a 
 few minutes before ten with a thousand 
 dollars in their pockets for the eve 
 ning s work. 
 
 When the curtain rises upon their 
 ten-minute act it discloses a typical 
 Tyrolean scene dim mountains in the 
 background, a sombre pine forest, a 
 toylike, gabled cottage in the distance. 
 The lights are low and the stage is 
 empty. The orchestra begins almost 
 inaudibly a simple melody in the minor 
 key. Presently a rich voice, that raises 
 70 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 doubt in the mind of the listener as to 
 whether it is male or female, joins in. 
 It is a song of love, a serenade. The 
 lights grow dimmer. A new sound 
 steals into the concerted music of voice 
 and instruments; there are strange, 
 bizarre chords and rippling arpeggios, 
 and then the music is drowned in the 
 burst of wild applause that greets the 
 appearance of " The Girl with the Gui 
 tar." She bows modestly, the lights 
 go up, the rich voice is heard again in 
 a joyous yodel, and the sister, too, ap 
 pears, dressed in the picturesque attire 
 of an Alpine hunter. This artistically 
 conceived prologue brings the audience 
 into closer sympathy with what fol 
 lows. " The Girl with the Guitar," 
 unheeding the applause and the demon 
 strations of the male portion of the 
 audience, seats herself at the extreme 
 rirfit of tho stage near fho footlights. 
 The sister is led by the manager along 
 
When the Cuckoo Galled 
 
 a narrow platform projecting into the 
 centre of the hall, where, after being 
 blindfolded, she seats herself with her 
 back to the stage, and the real per 
 formance begins, to the muted music of 
 the orchestra and the sad, fantastic 
 chords of the guitar. The second-sight 
 seance progresses in the time-honored 
 way, except that no word is spoken 
 save by the blindfolded sister, who ac 
 curately names and describes, in a 
 clear, musical voice, each article as it 
 is borrowed from the audience and held 
 up in silence before the footlights by 
 the manager, some thirty feet behind 
 her back. " A gold watch with a pic 
 ture of a lady on its face "; " a pair of 
 pearl opera glasses "; "a half-crown 
 piece with a hole in it "; and so on, the 
 blindfolded girl describes the exhibits 
 as though they were held out before her 
 naked eyes. She never falters, never 
 misses, and the puzzled look that conies 
 72 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 to every face shows how completely she 
 has mastered her art. But it is the 
 strange, brilliant beauty and the fan 
 tastic music of " The Girl with the Gui 
 tar," who, seemingly unconscious of 
 her surroundings, gazes idly across the 
 stage, that hold the breathless atten 
 tion of the audience. Music like hers 
 has never before been heard from any 
 instrument. It is absolutely unique; 
 a new scale and new system of har 
 monics seem to have been discovered by 
 this sombre-eyed girl. It is her weird, 
 haunting melodies that trouble the 
 mind with strange thoughts, and the 
 impression of mystical, occult powers 
 at work, produced by the performance, 
 is really traceable to this music and the 
 mysterious personality of the girl 
 which pervades and dominates it all. 
 
 All this vividly recalls to Mr. Gaston 
 a ten-minute drama of life in which he 
 once played a part, and which illus- 
 73 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 trates how a man can regain his lost 
 peace of mind by being suddenly 
 brought to the brink of eternity. 
 
 Four years ago, while he was man 
 aging the affairs of a large American 
 enterprise in London, a cablegram an 
 nounced to him one day that his busi 
 ness partner in the United States had 
 robbed him of all he possessed. Brood 
 ing over his ruined business, to which 
 he had given ten years of his life and 
 sacrificed his health, his peace of mind 
 fled and he traveled aimlessly over the 
 Continent in search of anything that 
 might bring him sleep and help him to 
 bury the past. The doctors sent him 
 to Baden-Baden, but he soon found 
 that the conventional watering-place, 
 where one reads suffering in almost 
 every face, proved an irritant to his 
 insomnia. The more he came in contact 
 with humanity the more he felt drawn 
 toward Nature. So he started on a tour 
 74 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 of the Black Forest. At Trieberg, the 
 picturesque little village which stands 
 on the edge of a great waterfall high 
 up in the dark, pine-clothed mountains, 
 he found pleasure for a few days in 
 visiting the quaint cottages scattered 
 through the surrounding wilderness 
 where the cuckoo clocks, music-boxes 
 and wood carvings are made that al 
 ways attract foreigners. The moun 
 taineers carry these clocks and carv 
 ings on the back for miles down the 
 winding, perilous pathways to a public 
 exhibition hall at Trieberg in which is 
 kept a full line of samples for the con 
 venience of purchasers. 
 
 But the novelty of these scenes soon 
 wore off, and on the third da}^ after his 
 arrival Gaston, craving excitement, 
 bribed the custodian of this exhibition 
 h^ll to set off all the clocks and instru 
 ments at intervals of one second. The 
 chorus of a thousand cuckoos, rein- 
 75 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 forced by the patriotic rendering of 
 " Die Wacht am Khein," the William 
 Tell Overture and " Die Lorelei " by 
 scores of orchestrions and music-boxes, 
 delighted him, but proved demoralizing 
 to a party of American tourists bent on 
 doing Europe in ten days. Mistaking 
 their excited brandishing of alpen 
 stocks, umbrellas and Baedekers for 
 demonstrations of approval, the keeper 
 kept up the performance until the in 
 exorable schedule dragged the pros 
 pective purchasers away. They had 
 spent the ten minutes allotted to the 
 Black Forest. 
 
 In his wanderings and search for ad 
 venture, G-aston came one day upon 
 what seemed like an unused trail that 
 led higher up the mountain from an 
 almost impenetrable jumble of rocks 
 and pines near the waterfall. 
 
 " The Witches Path," exclaimed his 
 landlord, when questioned, " and who- 
 76 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 ever follows it never returns." It 
 might have an outlet in another valley 
 beyond, he added, but, shaking his 
 head, there were strange stories about 
 the Witches Path, and while he could 
 not verify them he knew that no one 
 of his guests who had essayed to ex 
 plore it had ever come back. 
 
 Sick of chattering men and women, 
 harrowed day and night by his troubles, 
 Gaston rejoiced in the prospect of an 
 adventure of any kind, and while he 
 smiled at the suggestion of danger lurk 
 ing in the recesses of the Witches 
 Path, he secretly hoped there might be. 
 Life was not a joyful possession to Sey 
 mour Gaston in those days, and he 
 cared little whether he lived or died. 
 So, early the following morning, with 
 a well-provisioned knapsack on his 
 back and an alpenstock in his hand, he 
 set out upon the Witches Path. After 
 ten hours of climbing, crawling, sliding 
 77 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 and slipping over almost impassable 
 rocks and through impossible thickets, 
 the trail led into a stretch of forest so 
 dense as to completely shut out the 
 fading daylight, and the wanderer was 
 glad to accept as a bed the thick, end 
 less carpet of pine needles that lay 
 stretched out before him. The follow 
 ing morning he resumed his journey 
 and at noon discovered, high on the 
 mountain side, what appeared like a 
 gray toy-house hidden among the rocks 
 and pines. After another hour of tire 
 some climbing he stood before a cottage 
 built upon the very edge of an immense 
 cleft. From far below echoed the 
 hoarse booming of a mountain stream. 
 His knock was answered by a short, 
 white-bearded mountaineer with pier 
 cing gray eyes, who, upon learning that 
 his visitor spoke German, received him 
 hospitably with the remark that it was 
 seldom indeed that visitors came his 
 78 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 way to brighten the lonely lives of him 
 self and niece, who, he added, lived by 
 making cuckoo clocks. It required no 
 urging on the part of Caspar Kollner, 
 the cottager, to induce his guest to 
 defer his return until the following day, 
 and after supper, served by the moun 
 taineer s attractive young niece, the 
 tourist was equally willing to join his 
 host in a pipe and game of ecarte, while 
 the young lady looked on and played 
 weird airs upon her guitar. Whether 
 it was the strange quality of her un 
 deniable beauty and the sombre mys 
 tery of her eyes, or her music, Gaston 
 soon lost interest in the game. Al 
 though there seemed little purpose or 
 training in her half listless playing, the 
 sounds seemed to hint at unfathomable 
 things, at fancies such as Gaston sup 
 posed might visit the soul of one who 
 had strayed from the paths of his 
 fellow-men into an exotic, unhealthy 
 79 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 world of his own, where strange birds 
 sang in a dusky, scented twilight. He 
 played recklessly, lost steadily, and 
 was repeatedly compelled to resort 
 to the Bank of England notes in his 
 wallet. 
 
 " You are in bad luck to-night. Shall 
 we stop? You must be tired after your 
 long. tramp, " at last suggested the host. 
 Then, counting the money slowly and 
 with evident pleasure, he handed to 
 G-aston all the latter had lost. It was 
 promptly pushed back protestingly, 
 whereupon Kollner exclaimed, " Never! 
 The pleasure is mine; the money is 
 yours. It is my custom to play for 
 stakes to lend interest to the game, but 
 the law of hospitality forbids my keep 
 ing what I win." So Gaston returned 
 the money to his wallet and bade his 
 generous host and hostess good-night. 
 Kollner led him to a large, low-studded 
 room on the upper floor in which every 
 80 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 article of furniture was elaborately 
 hand-carved. 
 
 " The masterpiece of my craft," ex 
 claimed Kollner, as he pointed with 
 pride to a mammoth cuckoo clock, fully 
 four feet wide and reaching nearly to 
 the ceiling. " But our proudest pos 
 session," he continued, as he led his 
 guest through a tall French window 
 upon a small veranda, " is this," point 
 ing to a view that caused Gaston to 
 gasp for breath. The balcony directly 
 overhung the mighty gorge, and from 
 the gulf of blackness far below rose the 
 sound of the tumultuous stream, while 
 an uncertain moon threw fantastic 
 shadows over the towering peaks 
 above. Most wonderful of all," con 
 tinued Kollner, " is the echo, * The 
 Ghost of the Gorge as it is called. 
 You shall hear it at dawn." With that 
 he wound up and set the big clock, add 
 ing, " When the cuckoo calls, rise and 
 81 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 come to this balcony. My niece shall 
 play from the rocks below and you will 
 hear the spirit answer. Good-night! " 
 
 As on many other weary nights, sleep 
 refused to come to Gaston. He lay for 
 hours listening to the gurgle of the 
 water and hearing in it echoes of the 
 wild music of the guitar. Towards 
 morning a feverish slumber came, from 
 which he was aroused by the shrill 
 " Cuckoo! Cuckoo! " of the mechanical 
 bird. 
 
 Clad in his pajamas he drowsily 
 groped his way in the dusk towards the 
 balcony. He had almost reached it 
 when he overturned the chair which 
 had served to keep the window half 
 open during the night. In its outward 
 fall it carried down the balcony with 
 a crash and Gaston, horror-stricken, 
 barely kept his balance by grasping the 
 window casing. From the dark chasm 
 rose the weird strains of the guitar, 
 82 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 echoing through the gorge. The Lore 
 lei was calling! But her notes were 
 drowned by the shrill creaking of the 
 iron hinges upon which the balcony 
 now swung to and fro below Gaston, 
 and which, like a flash, told him he had 
 been led to a man-trap of hellish in 
 genuity. Instantly horror gave way to 
 anger and the instinct of self-defence 
 roused him to action. For months he 
 had been reckless of danger, almost 
 courted death. Now he was seized with 
 an overpowering desire to live. He 
 turned from the window and began to 
 dress hurriedly when a noise attracted 
 his attention to the cuckoo clock. Was 
 it a hideous delusion? No! The thing 
 was actually moving towards the centre 
 of the room! In another instant Koll- 
 ner appeared from an adjoining room 
 through a door which the clock had 
 concealed, his eyes glaring fiendishly as 
 they rested upon the empty bed. Then, 
 83 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 as lie turned and saw Gaston, his face 
 became a mask of absolute fright and 
 bewilderment. For a moment only he 
 recoiled, then flung himself upon his 
 guest with the fury of a beast. Each 
 instantly realized that the struggle 
 would be to the death. Frenzied by the 
 miscarrying of his diabolical plot, the 
 mountaineer struggled madly, blindly, 
 for a grip that should enable him to 
 hurl his adversary over the mighty 
 precipice. Foiled again and again by 
 the agility of Gaston and forced to the 
 defensive, he turned towards the open 
 door to escape. As he did so Gaston 
 rushed upon him, pinned his arms to his 
 sides, and pushed him inch by inch to 
 the open window, and Caspar Koll- 
 ner reached the end of the Witches 
 Path! Ten minutes later Gaston found 
 the niece quietly preparing breakfast. 
 She looked surprised, but when he told 
 her that her uncle and not he had an- 
 
 84 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 swered the Lorelei s call, she asked, 
 with naive innocence, what he meant. 
 It was only after he had threatened to 
 hand her over to the police at Trieberg 
 that she made this confession: 
 
 She had been brought up by her 
 uncle, who had invented the folding 
 balcony, and who always engaged his 
 guests in a game of cards. He invari 
 ably won because he had taught her as 
 a child to signal, by means of notes and 
 chords on the guitar, the cards held by. 
 his opponent. He thus learned if his 
 guests were supplied with money, and 
 to gain their full confidence returned 
 all they had lost. He was enabled to 
 set the man-trap from his room below. 
 Although the gorge held the remains of 
 thirty victims, it was his boast that he 
 had never killed a man, that each had 
 of his own free will walked into eter 
 nity. 
 
 Gaston had heard enough. He did 
 85 
 
When the Cuckoo Called 
 
 not stop for breakfast. He left Trie- 
 berg the following evening and thoughts 
 of his business troubles no longer occu 
 pied his mind. When he returned to 
 America he set to work to retrieve his 
 lost fortune, and the folding fire-escape, 
 he tells his friends, was suggested by 
 something he saw abroad. 
 
 Gaston does not claim the gift of sec 
 ond sight, but he knows, he says, that 
 in the performance of the Zillerthalers, 
 the weird strains produced by " The 
 Girl with the Guitar " describe to her 
 blindfolded sister the articles borrowed 
 of the audience. 
 
 86 
 
ONE CHANCE IN A MILLION 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 AS the traveler, turning his back 
 to the setting sun, descends into 
 Paradise Valley, there spreads 
 before him a brilliant checker-board of 
 orchard and vineyard. Beyond this an 
 extensive and picturesque group of red 
 buildings gleams still ruddier, and upon 
 one corner of the roof of the principal 
 structure a small house of glass glistens 
 like a huge jewel in the sunset glow. 
 Approaching nearer, the buildings are 
 seen to be surrounded by parks and 
 gardens, where men and women are 
 amusing themselves with golf and base 
 ball, croquet and tennis, under the 
 watchful eyes of discreet attendants. 
 
 Here is the home of many a human 
 wreck, cast upon the shores of mental 
 89 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 oblivion in the strenuous struggle of 
 life the man who, during the gold 
 fever of 49, found fortune to lose all 
 else, he who sacrificed everything and 
 gained nothing, and hundreds of others, 
 men and women, who have proved un 
 equal to the strain on nerve and brain 
 imposed by the stress of an unkindly 
 Fate. 
 
 Walking apart from these groups 
 may be seen a white-haired man of 
 melancholy mien, who pauses occasion 
 ally and makes a peculiar motion with 
 his hands, as if in the act of cutting 
 with an imaginary pocket knife. This 
 man is the sole occupant of the glass 
 house on the roof, which is always bril 
 liantly lighted, blazing all night with 
 electric lamps. At intervals of a few 
 months, he is visited by two ladies, who 
 seem extremely solicitous for his wel 
 fare, and twice a year a noted alienist 
 from Paris comes to study this interest- 
 go 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 ing case. Here is the story of this pe 
 culiar patient : 
 
 Anyone with a sweet tooth and a 
 good memory will recall the curious lit 
 tle pear-shaped sweetmeats which were 
 so popular thirty years ago and then 
 suddenly dropped out of sight. Every 
 one bought and talked of the new 
 candy, which was small, apple-green 
 and translucent, with a curious red 
 streak in the core. It was not only very 
 delicious to the taste, but produced a 
 strange effect of mental and physical 
 stimulation, of buoyancy almost of 
 intoxication. Totally different from 
 the action of any known drug, however, 
 and especially from alcohol, it had ab 
 solutely no deleterious reaction, but on 
 the contrary seemed to exercise a tonic 
 influence upon the nervous system. 
 Joy Drops, as they were called, wore 
 carried in school-children s satchels, 
 sold on trains, taken as a " pick- 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 me-up ? by men, ordered by society 
 ladies for their " functions " and con 
 sumed by shop-girls by the ton. 
 
 The enormous profits from their 
 sales were not divided among share 
 holders, but all went to one man, Wal 
 ter H. Torreton, the inventor and man 
 ufacturer, who, starting in a small way, 
 had constantly increased his business 
 and incidentally the fame of the Lake 
 city where he lived. There he bought 
 the handsomest estate on Park Avenue 
 and built extensive conservatories, giv 
 ing much personal attention to a 
 unique species of lily, which had never 
 before been seen, called by him the 
 multi-bloom. 
 
 As the fame of Torreton s confec 
 tionery spread, other manufacturers 
 put imitations on the market, but with 
 out success. Though their candy 
 looked much the same, it wholly lacked 
 the peculiar qualities of the genuine 
 92 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 Joy Drops, in which analysis had failed 
 to reveal anything more than sugar, a 
 little fruit flavoring and the merest 
 trace of some quite unknown but very 
 volatile essence, which appeared to be 
 located in the red central stripe. 
 
 Torreton received large offers for the 
 use of his secret formula, but these he 
 promptly declined, and went on en 
 larging his business. Then his com 
 petitors began a systematic endeavor 
 to steal what they could not buy. In 
 formation was lodged with the internal 
 revenue officers that the candy con 
 tained alcohol, but this was disproved 
 by the government analysis, which, 
 however, utterly failed to show the 
 nature of the characteristic ingredient. 
 Torreton often found spy-glasses and 
 cameras levelled upon his laboratory 
 windows from buildings across the 
 way. Eepeated attempts were made to 
 bribe his workmen, but they only 
 93 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 served to bring out the fact that no one 
 knew the secret but Torreton himself. 
 Then complaint was brought against 
 him for violating the fire regulations, 
 and among the inspectors who came 
 when an investigation was ordered he 
 recognized a chemist from Chicago. 
 But even this spy, after gaining access 
 to the citadel, and peering and sniffing 
 about the premises, could find no clue 
 but a strange aroma which he could 
 not identify. Some express packages 
 which arrived at the factory were 
 traced back to Amsterdam, where, 
 after a tedious search, it was found 
 that they had been originally shipped 
 across the ocean by Torreton himself, 
 merely as a blind. When it seemed as 
 if persecution and inquisition could go 
 no further, the inventor, one evening on 
 leaving the factory, discovered a small 
 balloon anchored over his laboratory 
 skylight ! 
 
 94 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 Not long after this, a real estate firm, 
 acting, it was surmised, for a foreign 
 syndicate, bought a vacant trace of 
 land on the outskirts, commonly known 
 as Sumach Park. On the high ground 
 in the centre a large brick building 
 was erected and enclosed by a high 
 brick wall like those which give pri 
 vacy to many English estates. The 
 building itself was surmounted by a 
 glass structure, somewhat like the lan 
 tern of a lighthouse, and was the cause 
 of much curiosity. This curiosity was 
 partially gratified eventually, and the 
 story of a foreign syndicate shattered 
 by the following notice, which ap 
 peared one evening in all the papers : 
 
 ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS REWARD will 
 be paid by the undersigned to the person who 
 first brings news to his residence on Park Ave 
 nue that the electric light has gone out in the 
 cupola of the new Torreton Confectionery 
 Workg, in Sumach Park. 
 
 WALTER H. TORRETON. 
 
 As soon as the papers were on the 
 street, men went out of their way to 
 95 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 get a look at the new light. There it 
 was, sure enough, and as the darkness 
 gathered it displayed a beautiful green 
 pear, with a red streak in the centre, 
 a gleaming reproduction of the famous 
 candy. It was pronounced a great ad 
 vertisement, but one scarcely neces 
 sary in a locality where the confection 
 itself was already in the mouth of 
 everybody. However, the reward of 
 fered was tempting, and not only did 
 every policeman and fireman immedi 
 ately become a night watchman for the 
 Torreton works, but every man and 
 boy as well who could invent any pre 
 text for being out. 
 
 But while thus, in one sense, sub 
 jected to closer espionage than ever, 
 Torreton s factory was no longer 
 troubled by the spies of his rivals, and 
 his business increased even beyond his 
 expectations. Still he labored regularly 
 as ever, and lived with his wife and 
 
 96 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 niece just as quietly, his only extrava 
 gance being frequent additions to his 
 greenhouses. 
 
 The light in the cupola burned stead 
 ily, and the tempting reward seemed 
 destined to remain unclaimed, until one 
 evening more than two years after the 
 completion of the building, when a 
 newsboy lingering late in the endeavor 
 to dispose of an overstock of " extrys " 
 suddenly saw a blurred halo surround 
 ing the green and red beacon. It trem 
 bled, grew pale and 
 
 The light went out! 
 
 Dropping his papers, the boy took 
 the shortest route to Park Avenue, but 
 soon found he was not alone in the race 
 for the Torreton residence, as he 
 passed men and boys and even women, 
 all silently striving for the promised 
 reward. A watchful and active fire 
 man was the first to arrive in the pres 
 ence of Mrs. Torreton to claim it, and 
 97 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 she, with her niece, who acted as con 
 fidential secretary to her uncle at the 
 factory, were already in a carriage 
 swinging out of the grounds when the 
 great body of panting messengers ar 
 rived. 
 
 During the anxious drive to Sumach 
 Park, the girl explained that, rather 
 earlier than usual, her uncle told her 
 he was going to the city and would not 
 return to the works. When she started 
 for home she had noticed that the door 
 to a small inner laboratory vault, in 
 which Mr. Torreton kept his most im 
 portant chemicals and papers, was 
 open. She had closed and locked it. 
 What connection this incident might 
 have with the extinguishing of the 
 light she could not imagine, yet she felt 
 that something was wrong, as any at 
 tempt to enter the building by night 
 would put out the beacon and give an 
 alarm. 
 
 98 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 Followed by Mrs. Torreton and a 
 policeman from the crowd assembled 
 about the factory, the niece led the way 
 through the building. Although this 
 was four stories high, all the stairways 
 and elevators stopped at the third floor. 
 The private laboratories on the top 
 floor were never entered by any one 
 but Torreton and his niece, who went 
 there daily, drawing themselves up by 
 an ingenious contrivance like a dumb 
 waiter built into the wall and concealed 
 behind a panel in the private secre 
 tary s office. To this she now went, and 
 under her direction the others ascended 
 one at a time to the floor above. The 
 laboratory was in darkness, and the 
 electric light would not work. But as 
 they approached the door of the vault 
 by lantern light, strange noises were 
 heard. Tremblingly the girl worked 
 the combination and released the heavy 
 door. Torreton was there and alive, 
 99 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 and without speaking he stumbled 
 blindly toward the light, and then fell 
 unconscious. 
 
 Before closing the vault again, the 
 niece looked wonderingly in. Burned 
 matches and paper ashes attracted her 
 attention. They lay on the floor, be 
 neath the electric light bracket. On a 
 shelf lay a note hastily scrawled on a 
 Joy Drop wrapper: 
 
 " Locked in suffocating. Secret 
 shall die with me. Have burned the 
 formula. Wife has enough she shall 
 not be persecuted as I have been. 
 Good-bye. " 
 
 Beneath this was written: 
 
 " A thought has come to me that 
 may save my life: I sliall try to give 
 the alarm by cutting the electric wires 
 and putting out the cupola light." 
 
 He had indeed given the alarm in 
 time to save his life, but his mind be- 
 100 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 came a complete blank. The Torre- 
 ton Joy Drops disappeared from the 
 market, and the light in the cupola of 
 the deserted works has never been re 
 lighted. Finally, even the family resi 
 dence was given to the city for a hos 
 pital, but it was not until after the 
 extensive greenhouses had been dis 
 mantled and their treasures scattered 
 that it was suggested that they might 
 have held the secret of the famous 
 sweetmeat. That secret, with its possi 
 bilities, lies hopelessly buried in the 
 darkened brain of Walter Torreton. 
 
 And it is darkness alone that dis 
 turbs him now. It was observed from 
 the beginning of the attempts to treat 
 his remarkable case that he displayed 
 the utmost repugnance to darkness, 
 and grew nervous, uneasy and wild as 
 twilight came on. He is happy only 
 in a glare of light, and it was upon the 
 advice of an eminent Parisian special- 
 101 
 
One Chance in a Million 
 
 1st that he was finally removed to the 
 beautiful California valley, where he 
 lives, day and night, in a flood of radi 
 ance. His mind slipped a cog, the spe 
 cialist says, which may slip back again, 
 just as a train that has jumped the 
 track may jump back but it is one 
 chance in a million. 
 
 102 
 
DOODLE S DISCOVEKY 
 
Doodle s Discovery 
 
 JOHN JEFFERSON DOODLE de 
 rived a large amount of pleasure 
 from the knowledge that he was 
 considered a crank. In Doodle s opin 
 ion cranks were persons who, knowing 
 the right way, refused to have things 
 done in any other. John Jefferson de 
 manded full value for his own money 
 and persisted in giving the same in re 
 turn for the money of others. Busi 
 ness back-steps, fool fakery, and lame 
 excuses were foreign to his methods, 
 so when he opened his restaurant suc 
 cess was assured. Doodle s was the 
 most up-to-date cafe in the entire eat 
 ing zone. The food, service and ap 
 pointments were of the best, and from 
 the opening day the future prosperity 
 of Doodle was something that a fifth- 
 105 
 
Doodle s Discovery 
 
 rate prophet could foretell without run 
 ning the risk of a headache. 
 
 But Doodle s Cafe was in the direct 
 line of a trouble cyclone. In the wash 
 rooms connected with the establish 
 ment the proprietor supplied the finest 
 toilet soap that money could buy, but 
 unfortunately for the peace of mind of 
 John Jefferson he was called upon to 
 supply much more than legitimate 
 demands required. Expensive soap 
 proved a tempting bait to unprincipled 
 patrons, and Doodle soon discovered 
 that something like forty dollars 
 worth of soap was required to meet 
 the daily demands of his six hundred 
 patrons. Legitimate hand.-washing 
 could not possibly be responsible for 
 this enormous outlay, so Doodle set his 
 brain the task of devising a plan by 
 which the thieves could be detected. 
 
 As all the world knows, various in 
 genious schemes have been tried with 
 106 
 
Doodle s Discovery 
 
 the object of protecting the soap in the 
 washrooms of hotels and restaurants. 
 The cakes have been chained to the 
 washstands, for example, only to be 
 cut away by well-to-do people who take 
 things as they come. Again, hotel pro 
 prietors have put up liquid soap in 
 fixed contrivances, but the kleptomani 
 acs outwitted the vigilance of the wor 
 ried owners. The soap was carried 
 away in bottles, and the unfortunate 
 proprietors, finding it impossible to cir 
 cumvent the ingenuity of the thieves, 
 furnished common soap in large quan 
 tities as the only means of lessening 
 their loss. 
 
 But Doodle continued to buy the 
 finest toilet soap that was on the mar 
 ket, and he was determined that no 
 thief would make him change his meth 
 ods. On this account he set his wits 
 to work and Doodle s Soap Thief De 
 tector was the result. 
 107 
 
Doodle s Discovery 
 
 The cafe owner was in rapture over 
 his invention. Its ability to do all 
 that he claimed for it was beyond ques 
 tion. He had it patented, fitted to 
 the wash-stands, and then awaited 
 results. 
 
 The Detector was a simple contri 
 vance. It consisted of a small kodak- 
 like arrangement concealed behind the 
 mirror that hung above each wash 
 bowl, the eye of the camera being hid 
 den among the electric light fixtures. 
 The picture-taking device was con 
 nected with the soap tray in such a 
 manner that a person lifting the soap 
 relieved the pressure upon a button in 
 the bottom of the tray and was by this 
 means immediately photographed by 
 the unseen instrument. When the soap 
 was replaced a self -developing film was 
 moved up in readiness to snap the next 
 person who lifted the tablet, but if 
 it was not replaced the photographic 
 108 
 
Doodle s Discovery 
 
 apparatus stopped working and the 
 picture of the soap thief was, there 
 fore, the last on the film. 
 
 Doodle gave orders to his staff to 
 immediately report to him when they 
 found a cake of soap missing from its 
 tray, and on the first day he waited 
 anxiously. John Jefferson had philan 
 thropic ideas and he considered the ex 
 posure of a soap thief an act for the 
 benefit of the community. He had not 
 long to wait. Dinner had scarcely 
 begun when a cake of soap was re 
 ported missing and the proprietor im 
 mediately stepped to the washroom and 
 took the film from its place of conceal 
 ment. The last snapshot was that of 
 a well-dressed middle-aged man, and 
 Doodle, with the long film in his hand, 
 walked down the big dining-room in 
 search of the original. At the very last 
 table he found his man, and, leaning 
 over, addressed him. 
 109 
 
Doodle s Discovery 
 
 Pardon me," he said, quietly, 
 touching an overcoat that hung near 
 the customer, " is this your overcoat? " 
 
 The diner nodded. 
 
 " Then," continued John Jefferson, 
 " will you kindly take out of the pocket 
 the cake of soap you took from the 
 wash-stand a few moments ago? " 
 
 The accused man grew red in the face 
 and indignant, but Doodle was per 
 sistent. 
 
 " Very well," he said, when the cus 
 tomer refused to comply with the re 
 quest, " I will take it out myself. It 
 belongs to me." 
 
 He inserted his hand in the pocket 
 of the overcoat and drew forth the 
 missing soap wrapped in one of the 
 small hand towels also belonging to the 
 establishment. 
 
 " As I thought," commented Doodle. 
 " A wet piece of soap calls for a dry 
 wrapper, and I suffer doubly. Now, 
 no 
 
Doodle s Discovery 
 
 sir, you had better keep quiet. I have 
 the picture of the fellow who took the 
 soap, and that picture is yours. " He 
 pushed the film before the eyes of the 
 astonished diner and that person im 
 mediately grabbed his hat and coat, 
 paid his check, and fled. 
 
 The Thief Detector did good work on 
 its first day. Twenty-seven prominent 
 citizens were among those detected, 
 and the machine finished up the day s 
 work by photographing the mayor of 
 the city, who was accompanied by three 
 ladies. The official blustered when 
 Doodle made the accusation, but, like 
 the others, was forced into a corner 
 when confronted with the tell-tale film, 
 and he drew a cake of soap from his 
 pocket when the proprietor threatened 
 to call an officer. 
 
 In ten days Doodle had recovered 
 thirteen hundred and eleven cakes of 
 soap, or, more correctly speaking, he 
 in 
 
Doodle s Discovery 
 
 had recovered several cakes thirteen 
 hundred and eleven times from the 
 same number of soap thieves, who were 
 ignorant of the fact that their theft had 
 been recorded by the unseen instru 
 ment. And in no single instance had 
 the Detector made a mistake. 
 
 But Doodle found that the detection 
 of soap thieves was a costly business. 
 The thirteen hundred and eleven cus 
 tomers detected in the act of purloin 
 ing the cakes of soap did not return, 
 and each day made matters worse. The 
 Detector s average decreased as the 
 patrons fell away, but each day it 
 scored its victims. 
 
 And Doodle was determined. He 
 had made up his mind that he would 
 not allow a man who paid seventy-five 
 cents for a dinner to carry off forty 
 cents worth of soap, and the moment 
 the machine registered a thief John 
 Jefferson lost no time in making the 
 
 112 
 
Doodle s Discovery 
 
 accusation and recovering the stolen 
 property. 
 
 On the twenty-fifth day after the 
 installation of the invention Doodle 
 had but ten customers to dinner, and 
 before the meal was over John Jeffer 
 son Doodle retired to his office, and 
 throwing himself into a chair spent 
 some two hours in considering the sit 
 uation. He then arose and acted with 
 sudden energy. He dictated a lengthy 
 telegram and after seeing that it was 
 immediately dispatched, he drafted a 
 circular and had it typewritten. Then, 
 with a satisfied expression upon his 
 face, he sat down and awaited events. 
 
 And he had not long to wait. Two 
 hours after the dispatch of the wire a 
 fat man walked into the dining-rooms 
 and asked for the proprietor. John 
 Jefferson inclined his head and mo 
 tioned the stranger to a seat. 
 
 " I am the president of the Interna- 
 
Doodle s Discovery 
 
 tional Toilet Soap Trust," said the 
 newcomer eagerly, " and I came in re 
 sponse to your peculiar telegram. It 
 is a trifle vague, and we want more in 
 formation regarding the matter you 
 mentioned." 
 
 John Jefferson Doodle stood up, and 
 without speaking led the way to the 
 washroom. With a grim smile upon 
 his face he explained the mechanism of 
 the Soap Thief Detector to the presi 
 dent of the International Toilet Soap 
 Trust, and the fat man breathed heav- 
 
 " 
 
 There is nothing vague about 
 this," sneered Doodle. " What I wired 
 you is the truth. Nine out of every ten 
 people who steal soap from hotels and 
 restaurants never buy toilet soap. 
 Therefore, the more thieving the more 
 soap you will sell us, and it stands to 
 reason that you do not wish the Thief 
 Detector to come into general use." 
 114 
 
Doodle s Discovery 
 
 " Into general use? queried the 
 visitor. 
 
 " Yes," snapped Doodle. "I m go 
 ing to have this circular printed, 
 which tells the whole story in plain 
 language. If every hotel, cafe, and 
 boarding-house uses one but, there, 
 read it, and then I ll talk terms with 
 
 vou. 
 
 The president of the International 
 Toilet Soap Trust leaned back in his 
 chair and read the document, then he 
 did some rapid figuring on the back of 
 an envelope. 
 
 " What are your terms? " he asked 
 sullenly. 
 
 " A quarter of a million for all 
 rights," cried Doodle. " If you don t 
 want it I guess that every member of 
 the Hotel, Restaurant and Boarding 
 House Union will feel glad when they 
 get my circular. There are over two 
 hundred thousand members, and the 
 
Doodle s Discovery 
 
 trifling sum of flve dollars a head will 
 yield me over a million." 
 
 The other stood silent for a moment, 
 regarding the face of John Jefferson 
 with his keen gray eyes. 
 
 " I couldn t do it on my own respon 
 sibility," he said at last. 
 
 " Get busy on the long-distance 
 phone," suggested Doodle. " Call a 
 special meeting of directors and ex 
 plain matters, and I ll await the deci 
 sion. If your people don t buy, I ll 
 promise you that the Great Soap Thief 
 Detector will be known from Mindanao 
 to Baffin s Bay inside three months." 
 
 Three hours afterwards the fat man 
 returned, and picking up a pen he 
 wrote a check in favor of Doodle for 
 two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, 
 which he exchanged for a deed, convey 
 ing all rights in the Detector. He then 
 stepped into the washroom, tore the 
 picture machine from its hiding place, 
 116 
 
Doodle s Discovery 
 
 disconnected the wires leading to the 
 soap tray, and ripped the film into a 
 thousand pieces. 
 
 "I ve seen enough of that thing," he 
 growled angrily. " Cleanliness is 
 next to Godliness, and the man who 
 stops another man from stealing soap 
 is running pretty near the sin line, I 
 take it." 
 
 Then, with a final snort of disgust, 
 he went out into the street, and the 
 doors of Doodle s Famous Dining- 
 rooms were closed. Doodle the Crank 
 was happy and rich. 
 
 117 
 
KOOTCHIE 
 
 119 
 
Kootchie 
 
 THE east wind had failed to put 
 in an appearance that evening, 
 and the thermometer regis 
 tered ninety-five under the stately elms 
 of the Boston Common. 
 
 The family had gone away for the 
 summer, and Buttons and the butler 
 were out for an airing. Both were so 
 well fed and so little exercised that they 
 needed something to stir their blood. 
 
 Buttons was a sleek, fat pug, with a 
 knowing eye and oily manner. They 
 called him Buttons because the harness 
 he wore about his forequarters was 
 studded with shining ornaments. 
 
 His companion was likewise sleek 
 and fat, and the amount of lofty dignity 
 he stored under his bobtailed jacket 
 
 121 
 
Kootchie 
 
 and broadcloth trousers told everybody 
 that he was the butler. He carried a 
 wicked little cane with a loaded head, 
 and seemed to own the greater part of 
 the earth. 
 
 As the two strolled proudly through 
 the Beacon Street Mall, fate favored 
 Buttons and the butler. There was a 
 cat on the Common, a pet cat without 
 an escort. This cat belonged to one of 
 the wealthy families who at the tail end 
 of winter board up their city residences 
 and go to the country to spend the sum 
 mer and save their taxes. The owners 
 of this particular cat had speeded mis 
 sionaries to the four corners of the 
 globe to evangelize the heathen, but 
 their pet puss they had turned into the 
 streets of the modern Athens to seek 
 its own salvation. With no home or 
 visible means of support, but with true 
 feline fortitude, the dumb creature now 
 haunted the doorstep of the deserted 
 
 122 
 
Kootchie 
 
 mansion and grew thin. Hunger had 
 at last driven her to the Common in the 
 hope that she might surprise an erring 
 sparrow, or, perchance, purloin a for 
 getful frog from the pond. 
 
 The instant Buttons spied her he 
 gave chase and drove her for refuge 
 into a small tree. Then he stood below 
 and barked furiously, until the sympa 
 thizing butler shook the tree and gave 
 him another chance. This time the cat 
 barely succeeded in reaching a low 
 perch on the iron fence, from which 
 with terrified gaze she watched her tor 
 mentor. 
 
 " Why do you torture that cat? " 
 angrily asked a quiet gentleman who 
 sat on one of the shady benches hold 
 ing a yellow-haired little girl on his 
 knee. 
 
 " Oh, me and Buttons is having a 
 little fun," answered the butler. " But 
 tons is death on cats." 
 123 
 
Kootchie 
 
 The quiet man said nothing, but got 
 up, helped the frightened cat to escape 
 to a safe hiding-place, and then re 
 sumed his seat. 
 
 That night puss went to bed without 
 a supper, while her owner presided at 
 the one hundred and eleventh seaside 
 anniversary of the Society for the Pre 
 vention of Cruelty to Animals, and 
 punctuated the courses of a fish din 
 ner with rare vintages of missionary 
 port. 
 
 The next evening the same heat hung 
 heavily over the Beacon Street Mall, 
 and Buttons and the butler were again 
 taking an airing and looking for fun. 
 
 As Buttons neared the scene of his 
 former encounter, he pricked up his 
 ears, and sniffed the air for the scent 
 of game. Presently his anxious eye 
 was attracted by something his pug 
 nose had failed to detect. On a bench 
 near by sat the quiet gentleman whose 
 124 
 
Kootchie 
 
 acquaintance Buttons and the butler 
 had made on the previous evening. 
 The same yellow-haired little girl was 
 seated near him, intently watching the 
 rings of cigar smoke he puffed high 
 into the evening air. Between the two 
 a huge inflated paper bag was surging 
 to and fro. It was this paper bag that 
 had caught the eye of Buttons. It in 
 terested him. Drawing himself all up 
 in a heap, he proceeded with cautious, 
 measured step to satisfy his curiosity. 
 As he slowly approached the curious 
 object, his low, fretful growls seemed 
 to rouse it to renewed gymnastics. 
 This frightened Buttons and caused 
 him to turn tail and flee. His curiosity 
 had, however, got the better of him, 
 and, returning to what he deemed a 
 safe distance, he began barking furi 
 ously. 
 
 " Cat, Buttons, where s the cat? " 
 came from the butler, who was lei- 
 125 
 
Kootchie 
 
 surely bringing up the rear, uncon 
 scious of Buttons s find. 
 
 With renewed courage, the pug 
 rushed towards the paper bag. He had 
 almost reached it when the quiet gen 
 tleman gave the bag an opening twist, 
 and, as a furry head with a pair of fiery 
 eyes shot out, he exclaimed : 
 
 "Hi, hi, Kootchie! " 
 
 The earnestness with which Kootchie 
 " hi, hied " became instantly apparent 
 by the piteous howls that rose from out 
 of the murderous clawing, snarling 
 mass of flying fur and silver ornaments. 
 And the speed with which Buttons s 
 companion hastened to the rescue with 
 his loaded cane proved that even a 
 Boston butler can get a move on. Be 
 fore he could interfere, however, the 
 quiet gentleman took a hand in the 
 game. 
 
 " Stand back," he demanded, in 
 tones that showed he would brook no 
 126 
 
Kootchle 
 
 interference. " Buttons is death on 
 cats. Kootchie is death on pugs. You 
 like fun. I like fair play." 
 
 In less than twenty seconds a crowd 
 of loungers, newsboys, nurse-girls, and 
 pedestrians hurried to the scene. In 
 the confusion somebody thoughtfully 
 told a policeman to ring for the 
 " hurry-up " wagon. But before it ar 
 rived the butler was permitted to carry 
 home in his arms what there was left 
 of Buttons. 
 
 " Beat it, der cop! " shouted a news 
 boy, as the butler picked up his limp 
 and disfigured companion. And, as the 
 crowd scattered, every one was amused 
 to see a fine, gray, stumpy-tailed cat 
 make its way to the yellow-haired little 
 maid on the bench. 
 
 As the latter lovingly stroked her 
 
 shining coat she remarked proudly, 
 
 " Kootchie is my little pussy tat. Papa 
 
 say, Kootchie, put Buttons to sleep. " 
 
 127 
 
Kootchie 
 
 And the policeman winked with 
 ghoulish satisfaction when the father 
 spoke up, " Kootchie is a nine-jointed 
 cyclone. She s a young California wild 
 cat a friend in Tiger Valley sent me. 
 I m fond of pets, you know, and as she 
 felt a bit homesick this evening I 
 brought her out here for an airing." 
 
 128 
 
HER EYES, YOUR HONOR 
 
 129 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 "A I ^HE witness is yours." 
 
 I As the prosecuting attorney 
 sat down, the spectators craned 
 their necks and eagerly leaned forward. 
 Every one expected a merciless cross- 
 examination, as the reputation of the 
 young lawyer, who had been brought 
 two hundred miles to defend the pris 
 oner, had preceded him. And though 
 Delos McWhorter had thus far taken 
 no part in the proceedings, he was the 
 most conspicuous figure in the great 
 trial. One person alone rivaled him, 
 the mysterious woman who stood at the 
 bar, charged with murder. The hush 
 that fell upon the packed court-room 
 as the man slowly rose to his feet re 
 sembled the awful silence with which 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 the death sentence is awaited. As he 
 stood silent and irresolute for a mo 
 ment, the color rising to his plain, 
 youthful face, his fingers nervously 
 fumbling with a pencil, the spectators 
 were conscious of a feeling of disap 
 pointment. 
 
 With almost boyish embarrassment, 
 his eye sought that of the presiding 
 judge ; next he scanned the faces of the 
 jury, and then, turning to the witness, 
 in a voice at once gentle, sarcastic, and 
 magnetic, he began: 
 
 " Mr. Slade, I will trouble you to 
 look once more very carefully at the 
 prisoner. Perhaps she will rise that 
 you may see her better. You have tes 
 tified that shortly before eight on the 
 night of the murder you saw this 
 woman enter the apartment house of 
 which you are the janitor, and in which 
 the body of Charlotte Ames was found. 
 Now, I would like to have you tell the 
 132 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 jury just what it was in the appearance 
 of the woman you say you then saw 
 that enables you to swear to-day that 
 she and the prisoner are one and the 
 same person." 
 
 The witness, fearing a trap, hesi 
 tated, and nervously eyed the lawyer. 
 
 " I would like you to tell us," calmly 
 continued the questioner, " whether 
 you took such particular notice of her 
 height, her face, her complexion, her 
 hair, her nose, and her teeth during the 
 few moments that you say you saw her 
 in the dimly lighted hallway, four 
 months ago, as to enable you to swear 
 to-day that you cannot be mistaken. 
 Was it her size, her apparent age, per 
 haps, or the color of her hair, or 
 what? " 
 
 " It was her looks," answered the 
 witness, squirming in his seat. " It s 
 the same woman." 
 
 Yes, her looks; but I must trouble 
 
 . . 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 you to answer my question so that the 
 jury may have the whole truth before 
 they are asked to send any one to the 
 gallows. Remember, Mr. Slade, you 
 are under oath. Now tell us, what was 
 it?" 
 
 " We object," came from the prose 
 cuting attorney as he sprang to his feet. 
 66 We object, your honor, to this at 
 tempt to intimidate the witness." 
 
 Before the court could pass upon the 
 objection, the witness, turning from his 
 questioner to the court, exclaimed half 
 defiantly: 
 
 " It was her eyes, your honor! " 
 
 " That is all," came from the lawyer 
 for the defence, as he resumed his seat ; 
 and the spectators relaxed into a con 
 dition of restlessness that clearly 
 showed their further disappointment. 
 
 Each of the succeeding witnesses de 
 clared without hesitation that the pris 
 oner was the woman they had seen near 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 the scene of the murder, either just 
 before or shortly after the deed was dis 
 covered. As one after the other was 
 dismissed by the defence, upon insist 
 ing under cross-examination that he 
 could not possibly be mistaken, the 
 faces of the government counsel beamed 
 with satisfaction, while those of the 
 spectators assumed the blankness of 
 mystification. What was the strange 
 lawyer there for? they whispered 
 among themselves, and many turned 
 toward the prisoner as though to ascer 
 tain whether she realized how surely 
 her life was being sworn away. In his 
 opening address the prosecuting attor 
 ney had said: 
 
 " On the second day of last Novem 
 ber, a woman residing in this town, 
 young, rich, and notorious for her gay 
 and reckless career, was found mur 
 dered in her bed at half past eight at 
 night. Everything about the room was 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 in perfect order. There had been no 
 robbery, and the instrument used was 
 found in her breast, where it had been 
 driven to the heart. It was a gold or 
 nament, such as a woman wears in her 
 hair. 
 
 " We shall not attempt to defend the 
 character of the dead woman, but we 
 shall ask that justice be done. 
 
 "It is true that many a woman in 
 this town had good reason to wish the 
 murdered woman ill. It is true that 
 there are men in the community who 
 might have been driven by desperate 
 hate, desperate love, or desperate jeal 
 ousy, to do the deed, but, fortunately, 
 before cruel suspicion made any blun 
 der of that sort the police discovered 
 the criminal. Almost simultaneously 
 with the rumors of the murder came the 
 reports of a mysterious woman found 
 leaving the city. Within twelve hours 
 this woman, who now stands at the bar, 
 136 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 had been identified by no less than four 
 people, who saw her in the vicinity of 
 the scene of the crime either before or 
 after it was committed. 
 
 " No one knew her. She refused to 
 give any account of herself. She ap 
 peared to be in a state of great nervous 
 excitement. The government will show 
 that she entered the house shortly be 
 fore the murder was committed; that 
 she left it a few minutes after the deed 
 was done; that on the very day of the 
 murder she had high words with the 
 dead woman, and that the instrument 
 with which the deed was done was such 
 an one as the prisoner was known to 
 possess. Gentlemen of the jury," he 
 concluded dramatically, " Fate plays 
 no tricks of that sort. Fate fashions 
 no such chain of circumstantial evi 
 dence as that which establishes the 
 guilt of this woman and upon which we 
 ask her conviction." 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 These were his words, and now that 
 the janitor had testified that he saw the 
 prisoner enter the building, a patrol 
 man had declared that he saw her leav 
 ing it within fifteen minutes before the 
 crime was discovered, and the dead 
 woman s coachman had sworn to hav 
 ing overheard the prisoner using threat 
 ening language to his mistress, after 
 this and other circumstantial evidence 
 had gone before the jury and remained 
 unshaken by cross-examination, the 
 prosecution announced that the case 
 for the government was in. 
 
 In spite of the disappointment with 
 which the spectators regarded Lawyer 
 McWhorter, a nervous dread of the 
 man possessed the minds of the oppos 
 ing counsel, as he rose slowly and delib 
 erately clasped his hands behind him. 
 He was so calm. His methods were so 
 unfathomable that they began to feel 
 a vague conviction that he mastered 
 
 138 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 them and their methods, while to them 
 he was a closed book. 
 
 A moment he stood silent, and, when 
 he spoke, utter consternation fell upon 
 the court. The words were the last 
 they had expected. 
 
 " Your honor, the defence has no evi 
 dence to offer." 
 
 Even the court could scarce control 
 its amazement. Inch by inch the 
 ground upon which the prisoner stood 
 had been carried away, until now noth 
 ing but the personal appeal of her 
 counsel could save her life. Was this 
 possible? Did this young stranger 
 really possess that rare eloquence, that 
 fatal magnetism, that sometimes blind 
 strong men to all sense of reason and 
 right? Did even he hope to save his 
 client? His looks betrayed nothing. 
 As he took his seat his face was that of 
 a sphinx. 
 
 The attorney for the government lost 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 no time in beginning his closing speech. 
 " We commend the judgment of the 
 distinguished counsel for the defence," 
 he began, " which deterred him from 
 attacking the overwhelming proofs we 
 have submitted of the prisoner s guilt. 
 We commend the keen judgment which 
 prompts him to rely upon the famed 
 magic of his own voice rather than to 
 seek hope for his client in the uncer 
 tain words of unreliable witnesses. 
 The defence, too clever to attack such 
 proof as we have presented, will now 
 rely upon silvery tongued oratory and 
 superb rhetorical appeals to secure 
 from these twelve men a verdict of ac 
 quittal. But, may it please the court," 
 he concluded, " our learned brother 
 mistakes the intelligence of these gen 
 tlemen of the jury, if he supposes, for 
 one moment, that fervent appeals to 
 their sympathies can make them forget 
 their duty to themselves, to civilized 
 140 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 society, and to womankind." So well 
 satisfied, however, had the spectators 
 become of the prisoner s guilt, and so 
 completely did all interest now center 
 in McWhorter s anticipated speech, 
 that the remarks of the prosecuting at 
 torney were listened to with indifferent 
 attention. 
 
 Now, surely, the brilliant advocate 
 would demonstrate his ability, even 
 though he could not save his client. 
 
 " The woman," he began, amid op 
 pressive silence, " who was arrested on 
 the second day of November last, 
 stands charged with murder. As no 
 testimony has been offered to show that 
 she committed murder, the defence will 
 not waste your time or insult your com 
 mon sense by unnecessary argument. 
 You have been told with great clear 
 ness by the witnesses for the prosecu 
 tion that the prisoner was seen to enter 
 and leave a certain house at certain 
 141 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 hours; also that on a certain day she 
 had high words with a certain woman. 
 But, gentlemen of the jury, under the 
 laws of your State that doesn t consti 
 tute murder. A woman may pay a 
 visit to an apartment house at eight 
 o clock at night, she may have high 
 words with another woman in the pub 
 lic highway, she may even wear a gold 
 ornament in her hair, she may do all 
 this without becoming a murderess. 
 The evidence adduced is purely circum 
 stantial. No proof whatever has been 
 offered that the accused woman killed 
 Charlotte Ames. In the absence of 
 such testimony, it is your duty to your 
 selves, to civilized society, and to wom 
 ankind, to acquit the prisoner." Be 
 fore the last word was spoken he sat 
 down. 
 
 The entire court room was again 
 taken by surprise. While the brief 
 speech had the ring of cleverness, it 
 142 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 fell far short of the general expecta 
 tions. 
 
 After hearing the judge s charge to 
 the jury not one person in that vast 
 assembly doubted the result. Few felt 
 any sympathy for the woman, and 
 those few were men. The members of 
 her own sex were as a unit arrayed 
 against her. The pride of her pale 
 beauty antagonized them. The very 
 women who in their hearts had wished 
 the dead girl ill and who would have 
 committed the crime themselves, ex 
 cept that they lacked the courage, had 
 no pity for the accused. There was 
 something in her beauty above and 
 beyond them, and, womanlike, they 
 hated her for it. 
 
 Not a soul left the court room as the 
 jury filed out, for all expected a prompt 
 verdict. In this they were not disap 
 pointed. Ten minutes later the twelve 
 men filed solemnly back. Not an eye 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 sought the face of the prisoner, who, 
 like her counsel, sat entirely unmoved. 
 
 As the clerk rose the silence became 
 deathlike. " Prisoner, look upon the 
 jury. Jury, look upon the prisoner. 
 Have you agreed upon a verdict? " 
 
 " We have." 
 
 " Is the prisoner at the bar guilty or 
 not guilty of the crime charged against 
 her?" 
 
 " Guilty." 
 
 With difficulty the demonstrations of 
 approval that broke out in every part 
 of the room were checked by the court 
 officers. 
 
 Moved by that inevitable heart-stop 
 ping vision of " hanged by the neck," 
 every spectator turned to the hand 
 some woman in the dock. 
 
 The calmness with which she re 
 ceived the stares of a thousand eyes 
 was marvelous. No one expected that 
 she would now break her mysterious 
 144 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 silence. When, therefore, she rose and 
 turned her eyes towards the court the 
 spectators sat fairly spellbound with 
 surprise. 
 
 " May it please your honor/ she 
 began in a firm, clear voice; then, lift 
 ing one slender white hand, she pointed 
 to the door at the back of the witness 
 stand. 
 
 Every eye followed her gesture. A 
 tall female figure, heavily veiled, ac 
 companied by one of the associate 
 counsel of the defence, stood in the 
 doorway. The next moment she raised 
 her veil, advanced rapidly, and took 
 her place beside the prisoner. 
 
 The scene that followed resembled a 
 street riot, rather than the solemn pro 
 ceedings of a court room. Men, wild 
 with excitement, mounted their chairs, 
 women rose in their seats, pushing, 
 jostling, and crowding each other in 
 their frantic efforts to get a better view 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 of the highly sensational proceedings. 
 The confusion was indescribable, the 
 noise deafening. Not until McWhorter 
 was seen to spring to his feet did the 
 court officers vigorous rapping and 
 loud cries for order produce any effect. 
 Instantly all was silence. Rigid sus 
 pense held the spectators breathless. 
 With the light they had missed in his 
 eye and the fire they had longed for in 
 his voice the young lawyer spoke, ad 
 dressing the judge : 
 
 " May it please the court, nice cus 
 toms must bow to desperate needs. 
 When a man is called upon to face in 
 defence of a woman s life such odds as 
 I found in this case, when he sees jus 
 tice outwitted by the devil s trick, 
 circumstantial evidence, he must re 
 sort to the devil s weapon, cunning. 
 Such evidence as has been here given 
 has hanged many a man, and I believe 
 that when a man of any heart, any soulj 
 146 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 any chivalry, sees that it is likely to 
 hang a woman it becomes his duty to 
 combat fate as the defence has done in 
 this case. 
 
 " I ask your honor, I ask the jury, 
 I ask the witnesses, to look upon these 
 two women. As they stand there side 
 by side, there is a marked difference 
 in their heights, a decided difference in 
 the color of their hair, a striking differ 
 ence in the color of their eyes, a very 
 perceptible difference, even at this dis 
 tance, in the tone of their skin; and, I 
 may add, a difference of eight years in 
 their ages. The woman who has just 
 been pronounced guilty of murder is 
 the wife of a gentleman who through 
 out this trial has sat within the shadow 
 of the jury. She is innocent, as God 
 is my judge. Every moment of her life 
 up to this very instant can be accounted 
 for. In substituting her to-day for the 
 real prisoner, the defence had no desire 
 147 
 
Her Eyes, Your Honor 
 
 to circumvent justice. We merely 
 wished to save this court, this commu 
 nity, from the everlasting shame of 
 hanging a woman whose guilt has not 
 been proved. We wished to show to 
 your honor and to these gentlemen of 
 the jury that it is monstrous to accept 
 as conclusive such evidence as has been 
 given in this case. May it please your 
 honor, this jury has just pronounced a 
 verdict of guilty against my own 
 wife. I move that here and now this 
 verdict be set aside." 
 
 The request was granted, and, al 
 though McWhorter was charged with 
 unprofessional conduct and threatened 
 with disbarment, his client was 
 promptly acquitted on the new trial 
 which the court ordered. 
 
 148 
 
FOR THE SAKE OF TOODLEUMS 
 
 149 
 
For the Sake of Toodleums 
 
 " 1W TOW, Bert, listen/ said Mrs. 
 
 I ^^ Rodney, taking her brother 
 into full confidence. " I want 
 to talk to you. Tom is really the best 
 husband that ever was. Of course I ve 
 never had another husband, but just 
 think how he adores our baby our 
 Toodleums! " 
 
 Bert Loring glanced at his sister s 
 face to gather that the last remark was 
 as a gold seal on her husband s virtues. 
 She was young, pretty, and winsome. 
 She was also Loring s only sister. 
 Nevertheless he rubbed his chin a trifle 
 doubtfully, for Rodney was a sad fail 
 ure in a business sense. 
 
 " Oh, well," he returned at last. 
 " Since you say so, I presume that set 
 tles the matter. You ought to know, 
 
For the Sake of Toodleums 
 
 Mary. Personally, I ve nothing against 
 Tom." 
 
 " No," she affirmed decisively. " No 
 one could help liking Tom. He s just 
 the most lovable fellow imaginable, so 
 generous and kind-hearted toward 
 every one." 
 
 " Urn - er - Oh yes! " nodded the 
 brother. " There s no question about 
 Tom *s generosity. J 
 
 He was thinking of the last occasion 
 when he chanced upon Tom downtown. 
 With great cordiality Tom invited him 
 to lunch. It was a capital lunch, too, 
 nothing wanting, only somehow Tom 
 found it was unfortunately necessary 
 to borrow five dollars to pay for it. 
 He had forgotten to drop in at his 
 bankers, By Golly! That was a joke 
 on Tom, at which he laughed in the 
 utmost good nature. His wife was 
 quite right when she spoke of his 
 kindly disposition toward every one. 
 
For the Sake of Toodleums 
 
 The waiter s smile bore witness to it, 
 when helping to adjust Tom s overcoat. 
 Loring went out with his overcoat col 
 lar bracing his ears. So much for the 
 waiter s discernment. 
 
 " But, you see, Bert," explained 
 Mrs. Rodney, " Tom s only drawback 
 is that he has never been given a chance 
 to prove what he is really worth. He s 
 wonderfully bright." 
 
 " As bright as a new five dollar gold 
 piece," subconsciously acquiesced the 
 brother. He was still thinking of the 
 lunch. 
 
 " And ambitious for bigger things," 
 added Mrs. Rodney. 
 
 "I don t doubt it," nodded her 
 brother. It occurred to him that Tom 
 was capable of ordering a mighty fine 
 dinner. 
 
 " Then, Bert, why don t you get him 
 a pood position in your insurance of 
 fice? " 
 
For the Sake of Toodleums 
 
 " .What! " he cried. " Pardon me, 
 Mary, I didn t quite 
 
 " Hush! " she laid a finger on her 
 lips. " Don t be so noisy, Bert. You ll 
 wake Toodleums. Yes," she went on 
 in an undertone, " a good position in 
 your insurance office. One in which 
 Tom could shine and Toodleums feel 
 proud of his Dada. You know how 
 attached you are to Toodleums the 
 precious! 
 
 " Yes, but you see, Mary," her 
 brother began to protest, " the shining 
 positions in our office are pretty well 
 all occupied. I don t glitter much yet, 
 and I ve been years climbing up from 
 the bottom." 
 
 " But Tom is so brilliant such 
 a fine talker," declared Mrs. Rodney 
 enthusiastically. "If he were once 
 given the chance he would jump 
 right up to the top. Everybody likes 
 him." 
 
For the Sake of Toodleums 
 
 " Well, our president has been pretty 
 good to me, he remarked. " I d really 
 hate to see him lose his job I mean 
 within the next few weeks even on 
 Tom s account." 
 
 " Bert, don t be ridiculous and sar 
 castic. Toodleums the love does not 
 like people who are sarcastic." 
 
 " No, probably not. But honestly, 
 Mary, you must see what I mean. If 
 I got Tom a position in our office, he 
 would have to take his chance with the 
 rest. But, as you say, he is a good 
 talker, and might do pretty well in out 
 side work." 
 
 " Then you will introduce him to 
 your president? " 
 
 Her face lit up with pride at the suc 
 cess of her plan to obtain a position for 
 her husband. 
 
 " I ll put him in line to show what 
 he s made of. That s all I can promise 
 at present." 
 
For the Sake of Toodleums 
 
 " Then you may kiss Toodleums," 
 she added by way of great reward. 
 
 She rose and moved softly toward a 
 lace ruffled and beribboned shrine. 
 
 " And be careful, Bert," she en 
 joined, " you don t stumble over some 
 thing and wake the sweetest. You are 
 so clumsy in comparison with Tom." 
 
 Loring faithfully kept the promise to 
 his sister. He first spoke with Tom, 
 pointing out the excellent chances for 
 a good talker in the insurance business, 
 and the agreeable nature of outside 
 work. For the right man it might lead 
 to the confidence of millionaires, and 
 the friendship of United States Sena 
 tors. Tom was quite enthusiastic. 
 
 " Just the thing," he cried, slapping 
 Loring on the shoulder. " The very 
 position I ve been looking for. Don t 
 worry about the beginning at the bot 
 tom of the ladder idea. I ll climb up 
 hand over fist. You watch me." 
 156 
 
For the Sake of Toodleums 
 
 So Loring introduced his brother-in- 
 law to the chief of the proper depart 
 ment, and with him Tom talked with 
 much enthusiasm of purpose. He was 
 finally told to report the next morning, 
 when full instructions would be given. 
 He was in such high feather on the way 
 home that he bought a silver rattle for 
 Toodleums on credit. 
 
 His conference with the chief of his 
 department the next morning was sat 
 isfactory in all respects. He appeared 
 to grasp quickly the details of the vari 
 ous insurance policies, and spoke con 
 fidently of what he intended to do with 
 the list of prominent citizens he was 
 instructed to call upon. 
 
 " Mr. Vandermorgan. Sure! I ll 
 touch him for a one hundred thousand 
 dollar policy right away. If I clean 
 him up before lunch, I guess that would 
 be doing something." 
 
 I guess it would," agreed the chief, 
 
 " 
 
For the Sake of Toodleums 
 
 who knew how for many months they 
 had fished unsuccessfully for Mr. Van- 
 dermorgan. 
 
 So Tom gathered up his papers and 
 strode briskly out of the office. He 
 took the elevator with the air of a man 
 who talked in nothing less than six fig 
 ures. Then he went out and walked 
 around the block. When he came back 
 to the majestic portals of the Long Life 
 Building he paused to reflect. An idea 
 seemed to occur to him. That it was 
 a corking idea, the pleased expression 
 on his face indicated. He again took 
 the elevator, and was shot up to the 
 floor on which his brother-in-law s of 
 fice was located. 
 
 " Hello, Bert! " he greeted, looking 
 in at the door. 
 
 " Hello, Tom! How s business? How 
 are you getting along? 
 
 " Pine! Just going out to tackle 
 Vandermorgan. 
 
 158 
 
. . 
 
 For the Sake of Toodleums 
 
 Good! Hope you 11 land him." 
 Yes," Tom proceeded, drawing a 
 chair up to his brother-in-law s desk, 
 and spreading out his papers. " But 
 I thought I d have a talk with you 
 first." 
 
 " Well, go ahead. Glad to help out 
 in any way possible." 
 
 " Yes, that s just what I thought. 
 Now, see here, Bert, how about your 
 taking out one of our ten-thousand-dol 
 lar policies? " 
 
 " What! " cried Loring, falling back 
 in his chair. " Man alive! What on 
 earth do I want with a ten-thousand- 
 dollar policy? " 
 
 " That s the point. That s just what 
 I want to talk to you about," argued 
 Tom complacently. " Every man 
 ought to provide for the comfort and 
 happiness of his wife after his death. 
 That s about how the chief said I might 
 begin. 
 
 " 
 
For the Sake of Toodleums 
 
 " But you know I haven t got a 
 wife, "protested Loring. 
 
 " Well, that doesn t alter the case. 
 Those near and dear to you will do as 
 well," went on Tom sympathetically. 
 " Those attached to you by the strong 
 est ties." 
 
 " By the strongest ties? " questioned 
 Loring. 
 
 " Sure! There are Mary and little 
 Toodleums. As you are going to be 
 Toodleums godfather do it for the sake 
 of Toodleums. I ll just fill out an ap 
 plication in his favor. Of course we d 
 hate for anything unfortunate to hap 
 pen to you, but every man should make 
 a suitable provision for those who are 
 dear to him. The chief said that phrase 
 usually catches on." 
 
 " Well, I ll be hanged! " ejaculated 
 Loring. 
 
 " I sincerely hope not," fervently 
 added Tom, as he prepared to fill out 
 1 60 
 
For the Sake of Toodleums 
 
 an application blank. " Shall we make 
 it twenty or thirty thousand dollars? " 
 he asked, looking up calmly. 
 
 " Make it five and then go and chase 
 Vandermorgan," retorted Loring, fear 
 ful that worse might happen. 
 
 " All right. Five thousand dollars in 
 favor of Toodleums. See you later, 
 Bert," and with a smile Tom strolled 
 out of Loring s office to deposit the 
 signed application with the proper 
 clerk. Suddenly he stopped, drew a 
 pad and pencil from his pocket, and 
 began figuring. 
 
 " By Jove," he exclaimed, " not a 
 bad beginning! My commission on 
 that policy is just forty-one dollars and 
 I landed it in less than an hour. That s 
 three hundred and twenty-eight dol 
 lars a day, one thousand nine hundred 
 and sixty-eight dollars a week, and" 
 
 His calculations were interrupted by 
 Dick Willman, who grasped his hand 
 161 
 
For the Sake of Toodleums 
 
 and inquired: " How re you getting 
 on, Tom, and where are you bound for? 
 Bert tells me you ve taken up life in 
 
 surance." 
 
 " Congratulate me, old fellow. This 
 very morning I dropped into a berth 
 that pays me a hundred thousand a 
 year. I m through for to-day and am 
 off for home to tell my wife. So long 
 and Tom was gone. 
 
 He had not yet reached the elevator 
 when he turned, called back to his 
 friend, and going up to him, his face 
 still wreathed in smiles, confided: 
 " Dick, in my hurry to get down to 
 business this morning I came away 
 without even car fare. Loan me a five. 
 Ah, thank you. And come have a bird 
 and a bottle with me at the club to 
 morrow. Bye-bye," and once more 
 Tom was on his way to carry the news 
 to Mary. 
 
 " I knew it and always told people 
 162 
 
For the Sake of Toodleums 
 
 you would make good if you only had 
 half a chance," interrupted his wife, 
 as Tom triumphantly related his morn 
 ing s success to her. 
 
 " Oh, yes," agreed the husband. " I 
 know how to get there all right. By 
 the way, how s Toodleums and how 
 does he like his new rattle? " 
 
 163 
 
IN HELL S CANON 
 
 165 
 
In Hell s Canon 
 
 ADVENTUROUS prospectors 
 who have followed the perilous 
 trails over the Cabinet Moun 
 tains have, as a matter of course, heard 
 of the Lost Lead, but only he who is 
 a total stranger to fear has penetrated 
 the chaotic wilderness of Hell s Canon, 
 and thus come suddenly upon the 
 Grave of Gold. Four rude granite 
 posts, connected by heavy log chains, 
 enclose the spot. On the face of the 
 giant bowlder that stands guard over 
 the few square feet of sacred earth is 
 carved: 
 
 THE LOST LEAD. 
 LOUIS GILBERT. 
 
 186Q-1891. 
 
 This inscription marks the loneliest, 
 yet richest, grave in the world. 
 167 
 
In Hell s Canon 
 
 Late in the spring of -1889, Louis Gil 
 bert left his home in Kentucky for a 
 visit to his uncle s mine in the North 
 west. He had lung trouble, and the 
 doctor had ordered an outdoor life. 
 While his health improved, he became 
 infected with another ailment, perhaps 
 the only one to be caught at that alti 
 tudethe gold fever. Miners were his 
 only associates, the talk was all of 
 lodes, leads and drifts, and the only 
 communication with the outside world 
 was by the train of pack mules that 
 carried the heavy ore sacks down the 
 winding trail. So it was not sumrising 
 that his walks took the charaH-er of 
 prospecting tours, and carried him far 
 ther and farther from camp. Late in 
 October, when his visit was nearlv 
 over, he started with three days food 
 for a last trip, into new territorv. 
 From a conical mountain top about ten 
 miles west of the mine, he had looked 
 168 
 
In Hell s Canon 
 
 over a lower range of summits to a 
 great expanse of wild and broken coun 
 try that he had never explored. 
 
 The weather was like summer when 
 he started, but thirty-six hours later, 
 on the evening of the second day, a 
 fierce snowstorm set in. By midnight, 
 the first blizzard of the season was 
 raging through the mountains. On the 
 third day the storm still howled furi 
 ously, but searching parties were sent 
 out with a faint hope of finding the 
 young prospector before the trails be 
 came entirely impassable. In the dim 
 twilight of the afternoon they returned 
 one by one, almost worn out, convinced 
 that the body of the missing man would 
 not be found till the warm winds of 
 spring should melt away the drifts. 
 Yet, as a humane precaution, lights 
 were kept burning all night in cabin 
 windows, and, guided by one of them, 
 Louis Gilbert staggered into camp and 
 169 
 
In Hell s Canon 
 
 fell like a dead man before the mess- 
 room door. He was taken from the 
 snow, wrapped in blankets and laid be 
 fore a blazing fire. When he showed 
 signs of life he was given hot drinks 
 and put to bed. His prospector s belt 
 dropped to the floor like lead, and when 
 opened was found to be stuffed with 
 nuggets of virgin gold. 
 
 In the fever that followed, Gilbert 
 talked deliriously of his long struggle 
 through the blinding drifts, hungry, 
 cold and aching for the sleep which 
 would mean death, yet forcing himself 
 onward with the blizzard at his back 
 as his only guide. The amazing rich 
 ness of his find had given him the 
 strength that saved his life. 
 
 Finally he opened his eyes with the 
 old look and told in detail the story of 
 his wonderful discovery. On the east 
 side of a stream, in a canon so terribly 
 wild and broken that it was almost 
 170 
 
In Hell s Canon 
 
 impassable, he had found the gold on 
 the very surface of a ledge. 
 
 Filling his belt, he had started to 
 blaze his way back, when the storm 
 came down with frightful violence. 
 The rest of the journey was simply a 
 horrible nightmare. 
 
 As nothing could be done while the 
 snow lasted, Gilbert returned to Ken 
 tucky for the winter, yet could think 
 of nothing but his discovery. He had 
 found a fortune, had even put his hands 
 upon it, and knew it was his whenever 
 he could stake off his claim and take 
 possession. He spent his time in ma 
 king a chart of the stream he had fol 
 lowed on which he set down every de 
 tail he could recall of the eastern bank, 
 along which he had travelled. 
 
 Early the following spring he was 
 back at his uncle s mine, waiting impa 
 tiently for the snow to melt and be 
 carried away by the swollen streams. 
 171 
 
In Hell s Canon 
 
 Finally, after a tedious delay, he set 
 out with a small party of miners all 
 eager to have a hand in locating the 
 rich prospect. 
 
 " Hell s Canon! " exclaimed the fore 
 man, as, skirting Cone Top Mountain, 
 Gilbert pointed out the way. One of 
 the men, a Mexican, declined to go any 
 farther with the party, and the fore 
 man explained to the wondering Gil 
 bert: 
 
 " The Mexicans give Hell s Canon a 
 wide berth. They say that one of them 
 found a big treasure there, and then 
 lost it and his life in some uncanny 
 way. They found his bones though, 
 next summer. Knew em by his divi 
 ning rod, that he clung to even in 
 death." 
 
 On the second day Gilbert and his 
 
 companions found the stream, which 
 
 fought its way among the upturned 
 
 rocks, cavernous gorges and fallen logs. 
 
 172 
 
In Hell s Canon 
 
 At the sight of it Gilbert eagerly led 
 the search along the east bank, and 
 every spot was carefully searched. But 
 the bowlder, the two dead trees 
 every other characteristic landmark on 
 Gilbert s chart could not be found. 
 All search was vain. The map was 
 not that of the locality they were 
 in as Gilbert himself was obliged to 
 admit. 
 
 During that summer Gilbert led out 
 four other searching parties, but never 
 got any nearer the lost lead. Then he 
 again went South for the winter. 
 When he next returned it was with a 
 flushed cheek that contrasted horribly 
 with his pale, pinched look and stead 
 ily failing strength. In spite of all dis 
 appointments, he was still hopeful, and 
 to humor him his uncle s miners occa 
 sionally made excursions into the maze 
 of peaks and gulches. 
 
 One morning, late in the season, Gil- 
 
In Hell s Canon 
 
 bert asked for one more chance to solve 
 the mystery of Hell s Canon. He had 
 had a dream, he said enthusiastically, 
 that this time he would be successful. 
 The miners did not put much faith in 
 dreams, but, for his uncle s sake, and 
 because it was recalled that this was 
 the second anniversary of the great dis 
 covery, they made up a party and 
 started out in the usual direction. Al 
 though they moved slowly, the young 
 man s feebleness increased until it be 
 came necessary to carry him on a litter 
 made of boughs. This delayed them 
 even more, and it was late on the third 
 day before they reached the stream. 
 At the sight of the dashing water, Gil 
 bert s strength appeared to rally, and, 
 sitting up, he directed them to cross 
 to the west bank. At this strange or 
 der the bearers exchanged significant 
 glances and called the rest of the party. 
 The all believed that with a brief re- 
 
In Hell s Canon 
 
 turn of physical strength the young 
 man s mind had broken down. The 
 one point on which he had always been 
 most positive that the vein was on 
 the eastern bank of the stream he 
 had now abandoned. It was evident to 
 them that the lost lead would never be 
 found. 
 
 But it was time to camp for the 
 night, and the west bank was much 
 more sheltered. With much difficulty, 
 bracing themselves against the stones, 
 they carried the litter across the swift 
 current. Selecting a site sheltered by 
 a huge bowlder, the men sent in ad 
 vance to pitch camp began with picks 
 to clear a spot for the tent. With a 
 ring that could not be mistaken the 
 steel struck the rock. The men gave a 
 great cheer. Gilbert raised himself on 
 his litter when it was brought up, and 
 gazed excitedly at the great bowlder 
 and its surroundings, which had come 
 
In Hell s Canon 
 
 to him so vividly in that prophetic 
 death-dream his last on earth. 
 
 " The Lost Lead! " he cried in a tri 
 umphant tone, and then adding in a 
 weak voice, " Bury me here, bo;fs," he 
 sank back dead. 
 
 Spring freshets had changed the tor 
 rent s course, and the east ~barik had 
 become the west! 
 
 They buried Louis Gilbert with the 
 treasure he had never possessed, and 
 while the rich mine became known in 
 financial circles as " The Lost Lead," 
 yet old miners themselves speak of it 
 only as " The Grave of Gold." 
 
 176 
 
THE MYSTERY OP THE THIRTY 
 MILLIONS 
 
 177 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 1 
 
 AT eight o clock on the morning 
 of March 14, the Anglo-Ameri 
 can liner, the Oklahoma, left 
 her dock in North River on her regular 
 trip to Southampton. 
 
 The fact of her departure, ordinarily 
 of merely local interest, was tele 
 graphed all over the United States and 
 Canada, and even to London itself; for 
 there was a significance attached to 
 this particular trip such as had never 
 before marked the sailing of an ocean 
 steamship from these shores. 
 
 It was not because the great vessel 
 numbered among her crowd of passen 
 gers a well-known English duke and 
 his young bride, the grand-niece of a 
 
 1 This story was written in collaboration with T. F. 
 Anderson. 
 
 179 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 world-famous New York railroad mag 
 nate, that her sailing was heralded by 
 such a blowing of trumpets, nor be 
 cause she also had upon her lists the 
 names of the august British ambassa 
 dor to the United States, returning 
 home on a brief furlough, the noted 
 French tragedian, fresh from his Amer 
 ican triumphs, and a score of other 
 illustrious personages whose names 
 were household words in a dozen coun 
 tries. 
 
 The presence of all these notables 
 was merely incidental. What made 
 this trip of the Oklahoma an event of 
 international interest was the fact that 
 at this, the apparent climax of the 
 great gold exporting movement from 
 the United States, now continued until 
 it had almost drained the national 
 treasury of its precious yellow hoard, 
 and had precipitated a commercial 
 crisis such as never before had been 
 1 80 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 experienced, the Oklahoma was taking 
 to the shores of insatiate John Bull the 
 largest lump amount of gold ever 
 shipped upon a single vessel within the 
 memory of man. 
 
 Not even in the memorable gold 
 exporting year of 1893 had any such 
 sum as this been sent abroad at one 
 time. 
 
 It was not the usual paltry half mil 
 lion or million dollars that she was car 
 rying away in her great strong room 
 of steel and teak wood, but thirty mil 
 lion dollars worth of shining eagles 
 and glinting bars, hastily called across 
 the ocean because of the adverse " bal 
 ance of trade " and the temporary mis 
 trust of American securities by the 
 fickle Europeans. 
 
 The mere insurance premium on this 
 
 vast sum was in itself a comfortable 
 
 fortune. Business men wondered why 
 
 such a large amount was intrusted to 
 
 181 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 one steamer. Suppose she should col 
 lide in the fog and sink, as one great 
 ship had done only a few weeks before 
 what would become of the insurance 
 companies then? 
 
 Suppose some daring Napoleon of 
 crime should hatch a startling con 
 spiracy to seize the steamer, intimidate 
 the crew and passengers, and possess 
 himself of the huge treasure? " It 
 would be a stake well worth long 
 risks," thought some of the police offi 
 cials, as they read the headlines in the 
 evening papers. 
 
 The Oklahoma was a fast sailer. Her 
 five hundred feet of length and her 
 twelve thousand tons of displacement 
 were made light work of by the great 
 clanking, triple-expansion engines 
 when their combined force of fifteen 
 thousand horse power was brought to 
 bear upon her twin screws. Under 
 ordinary conditions she ought to have 
 182 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 made port on the other side in time to 
 let her passengers eat late dinner on 
 the sixth day out. Incoming steamers 
 reported a brief spell of nasty weather 
 in mid-ocean, however, and so her fail 
 ure to reach Southampton on the sixth 
 and even the seventh day was not par 
 ticularly remarked. 
 
 The great American public had been 
 busy with other weighty matters in the 
 interim, including a threatened seces 
 sion of the silver-producing States; and 
 the departure of this modern argosy 
 with her precious freight had almost 
 passed into history. For history in 
 that year was anything that had hap 
 pened farther than a week back a 
 day, if it was not of overwhelming im 
 portance. 
 
 If the big ship s arrival had been ca 
 bled on the eighth day, or even early 
 on the ninth, it would still have found 
 the public in a comparatively calm 
 183 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 state of mind, for the mid-Atlantic 
 storm would naturally account for a 
 multitude of lost hours; but when the 
 ninth lapped over onto the tenth and 
 the tenth onto the eleventh and twelfth, 
 with no tidings of the tardy steamer, 
 surprise grew into anxiety and anxiety 
 into an international sensation. 
 
 Of course all sorts of plausible the 
 ories were advanced by the steamship 
 agents, the newspapers, and other ora 
 cles, including that of the inevitable 
 broken shaft; and these might have 
 sufficed for a day or two longer had it 
 not been for another and much more 
 startling theory that suddenly came to 
 the surface and threw two continents 
 into a fever of trepidation and sus 
 pense. 
 
 It was the following announcement 
 
 in a leading New York morning paper 
 
 that roused excitement to fever heat: 
 
 " A new and most astounding phase 
 
 184 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 has come over the case of the mysteri 
 ously missing Oklahoma. It has just 
 been given out from police headquar 
 ters that Gentleman Jim Langwood, 
 the noted cracksman and forger, whose 
 ten years sentence at Sing Sing ex 
 pired only a few weeks ago, was in the 
 city several days previous to the sail 
 ing of the Oklahoma and went with 
 her as a passenger, under an assumed 
 name. Even at that very time the cen 
 tral office detectives were looking for, 
 him, as a tip had been sent around that 
 he was up to some new deviltry. One 
 of those clever people whom nothing 
 ever escapes had seen him go aboard 
 almost at the last minute, and gave an 
 accurate description of his personal ap 
 pearance, which was evidently but 
 slightly disguised. 
 
 " Langwood is probably the only 
 criminal in the country who would ever 
 conceive and try to execute such a stu- 
 185 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 pendous undertaking, and it is some 
 thing more than a suspicion on the part 
 of the New York police that he has 
 smuggled on board a couple of dozen 
 well-armed desperadoes, who could eas 
 ily hold the entire crew and passengers 
 in check and make them do their bid 
 ding, for a time, at least. The idea is 
 so replete with thrilling possibilities 
 that the entire community stands 
 aghast at it." 
 
 It is to be noted that the public al 
 ways " stands aghast " in such a case 
 as this; but it is more to the point just 
 now to say that the article went on, 
 through a column or more, to describe 
 in minute detail the circumstances at 
 tendant upon the departure of " Gen 
 tleman Jim " even to the number and 
 shape of the bundles he had in his arms. 
 The famous robber was very boyish in 
 appearance, and one of the last persons 
 in the world whom a chance acquaint- 
 186 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 ance would think of looking up in the 
 rogues gallery. Evidently he was 
 " out for the stuff/ in most approved 
 stage villain style, with more millions 
 in the stake than even Colonel Sellers, 
 of nineteenth century fame, had ever 
 dreamed of. Of course this theory, 
 which was already accepted as a fact, 
 especially in police and newspaper cir 
 cles, was quickly cabled across, and 
 created such a profound sensation on 
 the other side that even the London 
 papers had to give it that prominent 
 position which is usually reserved for 
 American cyclones, crop failures, and 
 labor outbreaks. 
 
 Upon the phlegmatic British govern 
 ment it acted much like an electric 
 shock and nearly threw the foreign of 
 fice into a panic; for was not the Brit 
 ish minister plenipotentiary himself a 
 passenger on the ill-fated Oklahoma, 
 and possibly at that very hour being 
 187 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 butchered in cold blood by a lot of 
 Yankee cut-throats^ 
 
 The thought was too horrible for a 
 moment s endurance, and forthwith the 
 cablegrams began to flash thick and 
 fast between the foreign office and the 
 British legation at Washington. 
 
 The result was that, within a few 
 hours after the appearance of the para 
 graph, one of the fastest and most pow 
 erful of her majesty s cruisers, quickly 
 followed by a second and a third, ha 
 stily steamed from Portsmouth Roads, 
 the three spreading out north, west, 
 and south, like a great marine fan, 
 as they hurried to the rescue of the 
 Oklahoma and the British ambassa 
 dor. 
 
 Meanwhile, at the Boston, Brooklyn, 
 and League Island navy yards three or 
 four of Uncle Sam s white war dogs 
 were getting up steam for a similar 
 errand, and a small fleet of ocean-going 
 188 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 
 steamers, specially chartered by New 
 
 York, Boston, and Chicago newspapers 
 to go in search of the absent leviathan, 
 were already threading their way 
 through the Narrows. 
 
 Not for years had there been such 
 world-wide interest in an ocean expe 
 dition. The newspapers commanded 
 an unheard of sale, for everybody was 
 on the tiptoe of expectation concern 
 ing the fate of the missing steamer, her 
 six hundred passengers and her thirty 
 millions of gold. 
 
 While the public was thus feverishly 
 awaiting the news, certain discoveries 
 were being made by the New York po 
 lice, which only went to confirm their 
 previous suspicions. Four or five other 
 hardened graduates from state prison 
 were found to be absent from their 
 accustomed haunts in the East Side 
 slums, although known to have been in 
 the city just before the Oklahoma 
 189 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 sailed, as was " Gentleman Jim/ him 
 self. 
 
 These discoveries had their natural 
 effect upon the public mind, and the 
 friends of those on board the steamer 
 began to despair of hearing that even 
 human life had been respected by the 
 piratical band. 
 
 As to the British foreign office, this 
 cumulative evidence threw it into a 
 perfect frenzy, and it was only by a 
 miracle that a declaration of war 
 against the United States was averted. 
 
 Three days passed by after the de 
 parture of the big searching fleets, dur 
 ing which time all incoming steamers 
 reported that they had not found a 
 single trace of the Oklahoma either in 
 the northern or southern route. Ves 
 sels from the Mediterranean, the West 
 Indies, South America, all made the 
 same ominous report. 
 
 The tension was terrible. Thousands 
 190 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 could not even sleep on account of the 
 mental strain, and the minds of some 
 of the weaker actually gave way be 
 neath it. The public by this time was 
 convinced beyond a reasonable shadow 
 of doubt that the robbers had success 
 fully carried out their fiendish plan; 
 but how? and when? and where? 
 
 When they opened their newspapers 
 on the morning of the eighteenth day 
 of suspense, they found the answer to 
 the question, and the greatest marine 
 mystery of centuries was solved. 
 
 In the small hours of the night there 
 had flashed across the European con 
 tinent, and under the dark waters of 
 the Atlantic, this startling message 
 from the representative of the Union 
 Press Association: 
 
 " Lisbon, April 1, The missing Ok 
 lahoma is disabled at Fayal, Azores, 
 where she was discovered by the Union 
 Press special expedition. Many of the 
 191 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 half-starved crew and passengers are 
 on the verge of insanity. The officers 
 tell a most astounding story of the 
 steamer s exciting and almost fatal 
 adventures. On the third night out, 
 the Oklahoma suddenly came under 
 some mysterious but irresistible influ 
 ence by which she was carried rapidly 
 out of her course towards the south. 
 Every effort was made by the officers 
 to bring the ship back to her course, 
 but the big liner seemed drifting help 
 lessly at the mercy of some powerful 
 current. The compasses were useless, 
 and the wheel no longer exercised the 
 slightest control over the steamer s 
 movements. 
 
 " Naturally the anxiety of the offi 
 cers was in no way diminished when on 
 the morning of the next day, which was 
 then the fourth day out, another ves 
 sel, a long low-setting craft of shining 
 steel, was discovered off the Okla- 
 192 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 liomcCs starboard bow, about a mile 
 ahead, but moving in the same direc 
 tion. By careful observations it was 
 discovered that the course of the two 
 steamers was identical. Both were ap 
 parently under the same mysterious in 
 fluence. Instead of sighting a rescuer, 
 the Oklahoma had, so it seemed, only 
 discovered another victim of the irre 
 sistible current! 
 
 " Time and again the Oklahoma at 
 tempted to signal the companion ship, 
 but the latter made no reply. Close 
 observation revealed that she was built 
 on the whaleback principle, with noth 
 ing above decks save ventilators and 
 signal mast, but failed to discover 
 any sign of human beings. 
 
 " By afternoon their continued fail 
 ure to bring the liner back to her course 
 had so wrought upon the minds of her 
 officers that their anxiety infected the 
 spirits of the passengers, who were 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 now aroused to the real danger that 
 menaced them. 
 
 " When the fifth day dawned, with 
 the Oklahoma hundreds of miles out of 
 the regular transatlantic course, the 
 gravity of the situation could no longer 
 be concealed. Distress signals were 
 kept flying, and all possible steam was 
 put on with the idea of overhauling the 
 companion ship and giving or receiv 
 ing aid. To the amazement of both 
 officers and passengers, however, in 
 spite of every effort, the Oklahoma 
 failed to gain a single inch on the other 
 vessel. Before they had time to at 
 tempt an explanation of this remark 
 able fact, amazement gave way to con 
 sternation. For just a moment a third 
 vessel had appeared on the horizon like 
 a messenger of hope; but no sooner 
 had she been sighted than with the 
 swiftness of lightning the mysterious 
 companion craft turned half around 
 194 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 and darted away to the southeast, with 
 the Oklahoma following as helplessly 
 as though she were in tow. 
 
 " In that moment the awful truth 
 was revealed. The steel vessel was 
 nothing more nor less than a floating 
 loadstone, which by some mysterious 
 power was dragging the great ocean 
 monster hither and thither as easily as 
 a magnet draws a toy ship from one 
 side to the other of a mimic pond ! 
 
 " Who was she, and what was her 
 motive? Almost before those on board 
 had asked the question, the answer 
 flashed upon them. The thirty millions 
 of gold! Beyond a doubt, it was their 
 capture which she was planning to ac 
 complish, either by luring the OMah 
 Jioma from the regular path of ocean 
 travel, and looting her and her pas 
 sengers at leisure, or by compelling her 
 to run aground upon some remote rock 
 or shoal. 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 " With this revelation a new horror 
 unveiled itself. Equipped as they were 
 only with the supplies for a short trip 
 across the Atlantic, the overwrought 
 minds of many saw starvation loom 
 ing up before them. That night not 
 a soul sought his berth. From time 
 to time consultations were held be 
 tween the chief officers, and many- 
 colored rockets spit and blazed their 
 signals of distress incessantly across 
 the sky. 
 
 " At length, soon after dawn of the 
 sixth day, orders were given to bank 
 fires and hoist sail in the hope that the 
 Oklahoma as a sailing vessel might free 
 herself from the awful influence that 
 chained her. 
 
 " But the effort was vain. Wind and 
 sail proved as useless as wheel and 
 compass against the fatal power of that 
 mysterious craft which drew the Okla 
 homa after her as irresistibly as though 
 196 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 the two vessels were united by an un 
 seen hawser. 
 
 " The steamer had now become a 
 scene of indescribable horror. Meal 
 time, bedtime, all the customary rou 
 tine was disorganized; and daily 
 prayer meetings were conducted 
 among the more emotional of the pas 
 sengers. 
 
 " Finally, seven days after she had 
 left New York, the officers of the big 
 liner united in one last desperate effort 
 to offset the magnetic influence of the 
 mysterious * pirate. The fires were 
 revived in the engine room, the steam 
 pressure in all the boilers was run up 
 to the * blowing off point; then, sud 
 denly, the reversing mechanism was 
 applied and a shudder ran through the 
 great floating city as the twin screws 
 began to back water. 
 
 " For a few minutes there ensued a 
 titanic tug of war such as the beholders 
 197 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 had never before witnessed. The water 
 astern was lashed into a lather of foam, 
 and for a brief moment the triumph of 
 steam over magnetism seemed assured. 
 
 66 Only for a moment, however, for 
 the cheer that had ascended from the 
 anxious scores on the deck of the Okla 
 homa when she slowly began to back 
 had scarcely died away when with a 
 mighty crash a vital section of the over 
 taxed engines gave way, followed by a 
 hoarse yell of consternation from the 
 excited engineers and stokers and 
 both screws were helpless and still. 
 
 " With this failure hope was well- 
 nigh extinguished; and the Oklahoma, 
 with her precious freight and her six 
 hundred and forty-three human souls, 
 abandoned all active effort to escape. 
 With not a sail of any kind in sight, 
 she passively rolled and plunged south 
 ward for seven days after her strange 
 and terrible pilot, from which, to add 
 198 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 to the horror of the situation, no 
 human sign had yet been given. The 
 supply of rockets was now exhausted, 
 and food was doled out in minute 
 portions as to members of a ship 
 wrecked crew in order to husband 
 supplies. 
 
 " On the afternoon of the fourteenth 
 day, when the exhausted passengers 
 had reached the verge of distraction, a 
 gleam of hope appeared on the horizon 
 in the shape of a solitary steamer, bear 
 ing down from the southwest. A 
 glance through the telescope proved 
 her to be a fast and formidable British 
 cruiser, evidently en route from South 
 America to England. 
 
 " At this news a mighty shudder, 
 half of hope, half of fear, seized the 
 crowd assembled upon the deck. 
 Would the British cruiser come to their 
 assistance, and if so, would she, too, 
 become a victim of the magnetic craft ? 
 199 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 For a moment their fate hung in the 
 balance; then from three hundred 
 throats rang out a hoarse cry of joy 
 as the mysterious craft swerved, turned 
 sharply and shot away over the surface 
 of the Atlantic due north. 
 
 " The spell was broken. The big 
 liner with her six hundred human souls 
 and thirty millions in gold was freed 
 from the power that had for so long 
 held her captive. But crippled as she 
 was by the accident to her machinery 
 she was unable to proceed unaided, and 
 was taken in tow by the British 
 steamer, the Midlothian, and a day 
 later was brought safely into port at 
 Fayal. 
 
 " The Union Press steamer is the 
 first to bring the thrilling news. The 
 first officer of the Oklahoma and the 
 saloon passengers, including Sir Q-am- 
 brel Roufe, the British ambassador, ac 
 companied your correspondent to Lis- 
 200 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 bon. A relief steamer is urgently 
 needed, as the Oklahoma s engines are 
 both disabled, and she will not be able 
 to proceed for several weeks. 
 
 " The passenger thought to be Gen 
 tleman Jim Langwood, proves to be 
 the Duke of Medfordshire, now on his 
 wedding trip with his young million 
 aire American bride." 
 
 Hardly had the excitement caused by 
 this startling intelligence subsided, 
 when it was once more aroused by a 
 despatch from Providence, R. L, an 
 nouncing the capture in the act of rob 
 bing a jewelry store of " Gentleman 
 Jim " Langwood, and a gang of four 
 other oldtimers, and by the following 
 even more important cablegram from 
 the Russian representative of the Un 
 ion Press: 
 
 " St. Petersburg, April 2. The iden 
 tity of the mysterious craft by which 
 the Oklahoma was drawn from her 
 201 
 
The Mystery of the Thirty Millions 
 
 course has been established beyond a 
 doubt. The vessel is a Hypnotic 
 Cruiser, recently completed by a Rus 
 sian inventor, named Slobodenski, and 
 possessed of an electric apparatus by 
 which any vessel can be brought com 
 pletely under its control. 
 
 " Whether the Hypnotic Cruiser s 
 bedevilment of the Oklahoma was 
 merely a trial of power, or whether 
 plunder was intended, can only be sur 
 mised. But naval lawyers say that this 
 marvelous new invention will revolu 
 tionize naval warfare and necessitate 
 the passage of stringent laws to cover 
 a crime for which at present no penalty 
 exists." 
 
 202 
 
ASLEEP AT LONE MOUNTAIN 
 
 203 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 IT occurred nearly fourteen years 
 ago, yet I never enter a sleeping- 
 car without being confronted by 
 that innocent face. It clings to me all 
 the more because I have always looked 
 upon partings and leave-takings as 
 mile-posts of sorrow in the journeys of 
 life. I dislike good-bys. I hate fare 
 wells. 
 
 I had just returned from Australia 
 and was about to start on my journey 
 across the continent. In company with 
 two old friends who had crossed the 
 ferry from San Francisco to Oakland 
 to see me off, I sat chatting in my 
 sleeper, when two Sisters of Mercy 
 hurriedly entered the car. 
 
 Just what it was in the appearance 
 205 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 of the newcomers that arrested the 
 attention of the earlier arrivals 
 whether it was their humble yet char 
 acteristic attire, so suggestive of char 
 ity the whole world over, the apparent 
 anxiety betrayed by their manner, or 
 the fact that a sleeping child, clasped 
 tenderly in the arms of one, was their 
 sole companion whether it was any or 
 all of these things that caused a sudden 
 reign of respectful silence in the car, I 
 am unable to say. Certain it is, how 
 ever, that their coming was not unno 
 ticed; neither was the circumstance 
 that the only visible baggage of the trio 
 consisted of a small square bundle 
 neatly done up in a gray shawl. 
 
 Upon being shown to seats in the 
 section directly opposite the one occu 
 pied by myself and friends, they at 
 once entered into earnest conversation 
 with the sleeping-car conductor. At 
 the first few whispered words the 
 206 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 man s manner showed unmistakable 
 surprise. He appeared either unable 
 or unwilling to comply with some re 
 quest they had made. Although the 
 nature of the request was not apparent, 
 the occupants of neighboring seats 
 could not fail to note from the con 
 versation, which now and then became 
 quite audible, that it bore some impor 
 tant relation to the sleeping member of 
 the party. The evident fact that the 
 sisters felt much concerned respecting 
 the safety and welfare of their youthful 
 companion served only to increase the 
 mystery of the situation. 
 
 After patiently listening for some 
 minutes to appeals first from one and 
 then the other, and after glancing over 
 a railroad ticket and letter they had 
 handed him, the conductor consented to 
 meet their wishes, declining, however, 
 to accept a sum of money they repeat 
 edly tendered him. Before leaving 
 207 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 them the man spoke a few words of 
 reassurance and encouragement, which 
 were cut short by the shrill whistle of 
 the locomotive, announcing the train s 
 departure. The sisters arose instantly, 
 hastily expressed their earnest thanks 
 to the conductor, and then, sinking 
 upon their knees before the child, 
 which had been aroused from its slum 
 bers and sat innocently gazing about, 
 first one and then the other clasped the 
 infant in fond embrace, and, amid sobs 
 and kisses, showered upon the little 
 being the most fervent blessings and 
 tender farewells. Then, covering their 
 tearful faces with their hands, they 
 arose, still weeping as though their 
 hearts would break, and hurriedly left 
 the car, which was already moving 
 slowly out of the station. 
 
 No sooner had they gone than all 
 eyes were directed towards the dimin 
 utive stranger who had caused the 
 208 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 scene just witnessed. Too young to 
 realize what was going on, he sat mo 
 tionless, as though spellbound by fear 
 or astonishment at his strange sur 
 roundings. In an instant the child be 
 came an object of intense curiosity. 
 More than that, its extreme youth and 
 utter helplessness aroused, on the part 
 of its fellow-travelers, feelings of gen 
 uine sympathy and pity feelings 
 which the heroic silence maintained by 
 the little innocent, in spite of the now 
 swiftly moving train, only served to in 
 tensify. 
 
 Neither memory nor imagination can 
 suggest to me a more touching picture 
 than the one presented by that plainly 
 clad handful of human loneliness, as it 
 sat there in meek silence, its tiny hand 
 timidly resting on the little bundle by 
 its side, while its eyes remained in 
 tently fixed on the door which, a few 
 moments before, had closed upon its 
 209 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 late companions. Whose child was 
 this? Who was to care for it? What 
 was to become of it? Was one of the 
 nuns a relative? Was the younger, 
 perhaps, its sister? Or was either 
 neither? These and similar questions 
 could be easily read on the counte 
 nances of the wondering passengers. 
 
 Some minutes elapsed before the con 
 ductor again made his appearance, 
 when he was at once besieged with 
 questions concerning the mysterious 
 stranger. And, as if determined that 
 not a word should escape their ears, 
 each of the twelve or fifteen occu 
 pants of the car crowded about him 
 as he seated himself beside the lonely 
 child. 
 
 The story they heard was brief and 
 pathetic. The little boy was as much 
 of a stranger to the conductor as he 
 was to the passengers. His mother was 
 dead. His home was in one of the 
 210 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 smaller manufacturing towns of New 
 England, where his father, who was to 
 meet him on the arrival of our train at 
 Omaha, lived in humble circumstances. 
 The conductor had promised the sis 
 ters to protect and care for the child 
 during the five days journey. It was, 
 however, not the little fellow s first trip 
 across the plains, as nearly a year and 
 a half ago, when but a few weeks old 
 he had come to California with his in 
 valid mother. The latter had survived 
 the long journey but a very short time, 
 and died among strangers in one of the 
 foot-hill towns near San Francisco. 
 The Sisters of Mercy of that city had 
 by correspondence arranged with the 
 father to adopt, or, rather, to provide 
 a temporary home for the little waif, 
 until he should be old enough to make 
 the long return journey. And now, al 
 though the boy had reached but the 
 tender age of eighteen months, the dis- 
 211 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 tant parent, craving for his presence, 
 had begged the sister to enlist in his 
 behalf the sympathies and care of some 
 kind-hearted East-bound passenger or 
 railway employee. Their repeated ef 
 forts in the former direction having 
 failed, they had at last applied to the 
 conductor. 
 
 In relating the child s sad history, 
 the sisters had, the conductor contin 
 ued, so feelingly solicited his kindly of 
 fices and paid such glowing tribute to 
 the almost angelic dispositon and ex 
 ceptional bravery of the infant that, 
 however disinclined he had been to 
 assume the responsibility, a persistent 
 refusal of their unusual request seemed 
 almost inhuman. He had therefore un 
 dertaken the strange charge, and 
 trusted, he said, that the passengers 
 would in nowise be inconvenienced 
 thereby. From that moment on, every 
 one who had less than half an hour 
 212 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 before witnessed the scene of sorrow 
 ful parting, which had so touchingly 
 told how completely the little fellow 
 had walked into the hearts of his bene 
 factors, ~ from that time on, every one 
 felt a personal responsibility for the 
 comfort and safety of the boy. Intro 
 duced under circumstances that ren 
 dered him a hero at the outset, at the 
 end of the first day he had already be 
 come the pet of the passengers and the 
 object of their kindliest attentions. 
 
 While the claim that this child was 
 remarkable for beauty and cleverness 
 might lend sentiment and romance to 
 my simple narrative, the fact is that he 
 was neither handsome nor bright. Tn 
 appearance he was simply a plain, 
 plump, red-cheeked, flaxen-haired baby 
 boy, with apparently little to be proud 
 of, save his evident good health and a 
 pair of largo blue eyes that seemed 
 frankness itself. His accomplishments 
 213 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 were few, indeed. He was still, as the 
 sisters had said, learning to walk. His 
 vocabulary included but three or four 
 imperfectly spoken words, and he was 
 conspicuously deficient in that parrot- 
 like precociousness so common and fre 
 quently so highly prized in little chil 
 dren. But what our youthful compan 
 ion lacked in attractive outwardness 
 was more than made up by the true in 
 wardness of one accomplishment he did 
 possess. That was silence. This vir 
 tue he practised to a degree that soon 
 won for him the admiration and affec 
 tion of all. Though exhibiting no sign 
 of embarrassment at the friendly ad 
 vances of the passengers, and while 
 not unmoved by their tender atten 
 tions, he maintained through that long 
 journey a humble air of mute content 
 ment that lost its balance on but three 
 occasions. 
 
 His quiet ways were a theme of con- 
 214 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 stant comment, while his presence 
 proved not only a source of increasing 
 pleasure to our small band of tourists, 
 but did much to relieve the monotony 
 of the tedious journey. 
 
 One important detail in the boy s 
 eventful history was missing. Cared 
 for by strangers from earliest infancy, 
 deprived of his mother s love and fa 
 ther s care, he had thus far not even 
 received that all-important parental 
 gift, a Christian name. To the sis 
 ters he had been known simply as 
 " Baby." By that infantile appella 
 tion he had passed from their gentle 
 mercies to the conductor s care. And 
 only as " Baby homeward bound " was 
 he spoken of in their letter addressed 
 to his father. 
 
 Before he had spent a day among us 
 
 it was suggested that his exemplary 
 
 Conduct entitled him to a more dignified 
 
 name at least during the period of 
 
 215 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 our companionship. And this sugges 
 tion led to one of many amusing inci 
 dents. By what name should the boy 
 be known? After the question had 
 been eagerly answered a dozen times 
 in as many different ways, with ap 
 parently little hope of a unanimous 
 choice for every one felt that his or 
 her preference was peculiarly appro 
 priate a quiet old man, whose ap 
 pearance was strongly suggestive of 
 the pioneer days, offered a happy solu 
 tion of the difficulty. He proposed 
 that, in view of the humble circum 
 stances of the child, the privilege of 
 naming him for the trip be sold at auc 
 tion among the passengers of our car, 
 adding, by way of explanation, that the 
 sum thus realized might " give the lit 
 tle fellow a start in life." 
 
 The average overland tourist is never 
 slow to adopt any expedient to re 
 lieve the tedium of the journey; and 
 216 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 here was, as one chap expressed it, " A 
 chance for an auction on wheels, and 
 one for charity s sake, at that." So 
 the proposition was no sooner stated 
 than acted upon. The auctioneer found 
 himself unanimously elected, and, pla 
 cing himself in the center of the car, 
 heard the bidding, prompted by every 
 generous impulse that enthusiasm and 
 sympathy can give, rise rapidly in sums 
 of one, two, and three dollars until 
 thirty-five was called. There it halted, 
 but only for a moment. The situation 
 had become exciting. The auctioneer 
 himself now took a hand in the compe 
 tition; and a round of applause greeted 
 his bid, made in the name of his native 
 State, " Ohio bids fifty dollars." It 
 was regarded as a matter of course that 
 this sum would secure the coveted priv 
 ilege. But no! Some one remarks that 
 yet another countv remains to be heard 
 from. The voice of the weather-worn 
 217 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 pioneer, the suggester of the scheme, 
 has not yet been heard in the bid 
 ding. He has been a silent looker-on, 
 biding his time. Now it has come. As 
 he rises slowly in his seat he is intently 
 watched by every eye, for somehow the 
 impression prevails that he hails from 
 " the coast," and that consequently 
 there can be nothing small in anything 
 he does. In this no one is disappointed. 
 The heart and purse of the gray-haired 
 veteran are in the cause. Besides, his 
 " pride is up " for the State he wor 
 ships, almost idolizes. As his clear 
 voice rings out with: " California sees 
 Ohio s fifty, and goes fifty better," he 
 is greeted by a storm of cheers that he 
 will remember as long as he lives. And 
 when the auctioneer announces: " Cali 
 fornia pays one hundred dollars and 
 secures the privilege of naming the 
 boy; what name shall it be? " the an 
 swer comes back quick as a flash: 
 218 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 " Grit! That sounds well and seems 
 to fit well." 
 
 The passengers thought so, too, and 
 very plainly showed their approval by 
 overwhelming the man with congratu 
 lations and good wishes. 
 
 Reports of our proceedings were not 
 slow in reaching the passengers in 
 other parts of the train, whose curi 
 osity or compassion led to numerous 
 daily visits, while thoughtful sympathy 
 found expression in liberal gifts of 
 fruit, photographs, and a variety of 
 Indian toys, as curious as they were 
 welcome. To the old Californian, 
 whose great liberality had secured for 
 him a place in the respect and good- will 
 of the entire party which was second 
 only to that held by Grit himself, these 
 continued attentions proved a source 
 of special delight. Though he bore his 
 honors with becoming modesty, he 
 found early opportunity of proposing 
 219 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 the health of the boy, who, as he aptly 
 expressed it, " had been rocked in the 
 cradle of misfortune, but had at last 
 struck the color." Equally happy was 
 his reply to a party of jolly cowboys, 
 whom curiosity had led to solicit " a 
 peep at the silent kid," while the train 
 was delayed at one of the eating sta 
 tions along the road. Their request 
 having been granted, one of their num 
 ber felt so highly elated upon receiving 
 a handshake from Grit that he insisted 
 upon presenting him with his huge cow 
 boy spurs as a keepsake, proclaiming as 
 he did so with a trifle more enthusi 
 asm than reverence that in " paying 
 a hundred to nominate the cute little 
 kid, old California carved his own 
 name upon the Rock of Ages." 
 
 " Bless his little heart," replied the 
 grizzled miner; "I d give ten thousand 
 more to own him, now that he has won 
 his spurs." 
 
 220 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 Among the recollections of my per 
 sonal experiences with Grit, the second 
 night of the journey stands out with 
 especial clearness. At that time we 
 were passing through the famous snow- 
 shed section on the eastern slope of the 
 Sierra Nevada, our train running at a 
 high rate of speed in order to make up 
 lost time. It was here that the bravery 
 of our little hero was put to a cruel 
 test. Some time after midnight I was 
 awakened by a child s frantic screams, 
 that rose loud above the train s thun 
 dering noise. And, though up to this 
 time there had not been a single tearful 
 outbreak on the part of the young Tro 
 jan, there could be no mistaking the 
 source of the piercing shrieks that now 
 met my ears. I lost no time in hasten 
 ing to his assistance, for I knew that, 
 by way of experiment, he had been 
 quartered in a " section " entirely by 
 himself, the previous night having been 
 
 221 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 a sleepless one to both the conductor 
 and his charge. Furthermore, it was 
 evident from his agonizing cries that I 
 was the first to hear him. Finding the 
 car in total darkness, the lights on both 
 ends having gone out, I met with some 
 delay in feeling my way to the terrified 
 child, calling to him as I went; and at 
 the first touch of my hand the trem 
 bling, feverish little form drew close to 
 me, its chubby arms closed wildly about 
 my neck, while loud, hysterical sobs 
 told more plainly than words can ex 
 press the agony that the child had en 
 dured. Only one who is familiar with 
 sleeping-car travel over mountainous 
 country, who has found himself sud 
 denly aroused by the terrific roaring 
 and swaying of a swiftly running train, 
 and who, unconscious for the instant of 
 his surroundings, has felt his flesh 
 creep and his heart stand still, as he 
 imagined himself engulfed by a mighty 
 
 222 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 torrent or hurled over some awful prec 
 ipice, only such an one can realize the 
 position of this terror-stricken child. 
 
 Arousing the porter, who had gone to 
 sleep while blacking the passengers 
 boots, I carried Grit to my own berth, 
 where my endeavors to soothe his dis 
 turbed feelings proved so highly suc 
 cessful that the re-lighting of the car 
 was greeted by him with loud laughter, 
 through the still lingering tears. But 
 go to sleep again he would not. No 
 matter how often I tucked him beneath 
 the blankets and settled myself to pre 
 tended slumbers, he would as often ex 
 tricate himself, and, in a sitting pos 
 ture, silently contemplate his surround 
 ings. Fearing to doze off under the cir 
 cumstances, I finally concluded to sit 
 up with the little fellow until sleep 
 should overcome him. Making his way 
 to my side as I sat on the edge of the 
 berth, and placing his face close to 
 223 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 mine, he imparted the cause of his per 
 sistent wakefulness by a gently uttered 
 " dwink! " repeating the word with 
 more emphasis after a moment s pause. 
 Happily, ample provisions had been 
 made to meet his wants in this direc 
 tion, and, procuring from the porter s 
 " baby s bakery," as the well-provided 
 lunch basket we had presented him at 
 Sacramento had come to be known, I 
 helped him to a glass of milk, after 
 drinking which he fell quickly to sleep. 
 After that night s experience, Grit 
 singled me out as his particular friend; 
 and, as a consequence, he was nightly 
 permitted to share my section with me. 
 In these closer relations I found him 
 the gentlest, most loving, and best-be 
 haved child I ever met. It seemed as 
 though he knew and felt that he stood 
 sadly alone in the world, and that the 
 less trouble he gave to others the bet 
 ter he would get on. His spirit of con- 
 224 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 tentment and faculty of self-entertain 
 ment were phenomenal. While cards, 
 books, conversation, and sleep served 
 as a means of passing away time among 
 the other passengers, he would for 
 hours at a time remain in sole posses 
 sion of a favorite corner seat, silently 
 musing over some simple Indian toy. 
 Again, an illustrated time-table or rail 
 way map would absorb his entire atten 
 tion, until he had apparently mastered 
 every detail of the intricate document. 
 To watch the little toddling figure, after 
 these prolonged periods of self-amuse 
 ment, as, clad in a long, loose, gray 
 gown, it quietly made its way along the 
 car on a tour of inspection, proved an 
 appealing study. Finding his arrival at 
 my seat unnoticed at times by reason 
 of my absorption in a book or game of 
 cards he would announce his pres 
 ence by a series of steady pulls at my 
 coat, and make known his wants by a 
 225 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 sweetly mumbled " Mum-mum." Re 
 peated falls, incurred during these ex 
 cursions, never caused him to falter in 
 his purpose, nor did these, at any time, 
 result in any other than good-natured 
 demonstrations. 
 
 On but one occasion, aside from that 
 already alluded to, was he moved to 
 tears an unlucky incident that hap 
 pened while our party was taking 
 breakfast at Cheyenne, sadly upsetting 
 the remarkable tranquillity of his mind. 
 We had scarcely seated ourselves at the 
 table, with the boy, as usual, perched in 
 a baby chair in the midst of the party, 
 when, espying an orange that a little 
 girl next to him had placed beside her 
 plate, Grit, innocently unmindful of its 
 ownership, proceeded to help himself to 
 the inviting fruit, No sooner had he 
 grasped it than a sharp slap from his 
 fair neighbor s hand sent it rolling 
 along the floor. The child started, 
 226 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 trembled; keenly hurt in more ways 
 than one by what was, no doubt, the 
 first punishment he had ever received, 
 he burst into heart-rending tears. 
 
 Turning to me with outstretched 
 arms, his piteously spoken " Mum- 
 mum " cast a shadow over the festive 
 occasion, and to some of us, at least, 
 placed the further discussion of the 
 meal beyond desire. Taking him back 
 to the car, we were quickly joined by 
 the conductor and our friend from the 
 coast, who, after denouncing the " out 
 rage " with frontier fluency, insisted 
 that he should demand an apology from 
 the offender, who was " plenty old 
 enough to know better," and whose 
 indignity to Grit, " right before a lot 
 of strangers, was nothing short of an 
 insult to our entire party." He " would 
 rather," he continued, " fast a whole 
 month " than sit by and again witness 
 such conduct from one whose " sex and 
 227 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 insignificance prevented a man from 
 even drawing his gun in defence of the 
 most helpless and innocent little crea 
 ture on earth." 
 
 Something in the old man s manner, 
 as he uttered these words, left little 
 doubt in the minds of the passengers, 
 now returning from the hurriedly fin 
 ished meal, that, had Grit s tormentor 
 been unfortunate enough to belong to 
 the sterner sex, the novel experience of 
 serving on a coroner s jury in the cow 
 boy country would doubtless have been 
 afforded us. This tension of feeling 
 was happily relieved, however, by the 
 appearance of the offender in person, 
 who, accompanied by her mother, tear 
 fully presented, not only her humble 
 apology, but that bone of contention, 
 the tropical product itself, which she 
 insisted should be accepted as a peace 
 offering. 
 
 As the journey progressed, each day 
 228 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 brought to our party frequent remind 
 ers of their constantly increasing at 
 tachment, not only for the little hero, 
 but for each other. And it became more 
 and more apparent, now that the Rock 
 ies had already been left behind, and 
 our thoughts turned to the inevitable 
 breaking up of the happy band, that 
 Grit s presence had been the uncon 
 scious means of forming among his 
 companions a strong bond of friend 
 ship and good-fellowship one that 
 could not be severed without sincere 
 mutual regrets. 
 
 The morning of the last day found us 
 still speeding over the seemingly end 
 less cattle plains, where the frequent 
 spectacle of immense grazing herds, 
 guarded by picturesque bands of frol 
 icking cowboys, added novelty and in 
 terest to the monotony of the scene. 
 
 It was in the early part of the after 
 noon of that day, while Grit was en- 
 229 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 joying his customary mid-day nap, and 
 the final games of whist and euchre so 
 completely enlisted our interest as to 
 render unnoticed the locomotive s shrill 
 notes of warning to trespassing cattle, 
 that a sudden terrific crash, followed by 
 violent jolting and swaying of the car, 
 breaking of windows, and pitching 
 about of passengers and baggage, 
 caused a scene of consternation and 
 suffering. 
 
 Mingled with shouts of " Collision! " 
 from men, and the screams of panic- 
 stricken women, came the engineer s 
 piercing signal for " Down brakes! " 
 and before the car had fairly regained 
 its balance upon the rails and the occu 
 pants had time to extricate themselves 
 or realize what had happened, the train 
 had come to a standstill. 
 
 More frightened than hurt, people in 
 stantly began bolting frantically for the 
 doors, questioning and shouting to one 
 230 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 another as they went. In the midst of 
 the wild confusion arose cries of " Save 
 Grit! Look out for the baby! " The 
 words sent a shock to the heart of every 
 hearer. Pear vanished. Personal peril 
 was forgotten for the moment. Not a 
 soul left the car! Though women had 
 fainted and men lay motionless as if 
 paralyzed, but one thought filled the 
 minds of those who had heard the ap 
 peal: Was Grit safe? 
 
 In a moment the answer to this un 
 asked question fell from the lips of one 
 whose intense affection for the boy he 
 had so appropriately named needed no 
 appeal to carry him to his side in time 
 of peril. " The child is hurt! Some 
 body go and see if there is a doctor on 
 the train! v In willing response, sev 
 eral men rushed out among the excited 
 throng that poured from the other 
 cars. 
 
 Before us, on a pillowed seat, to 
 231 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 which he had just borne him, lay Grit, 
 half unconscious, pale, limp, and breath 
 ing with painful difficulty. The sudden 
 shock which had almost overturned the 
 car had rudely thrown him from his bed 
 to the floor. There, between two un 
 occupied seats on the opposite side of 
 the car, we had found him, convulsively 
 gasping for breath, one little hand still 
 grasping tightly the Indian doll-baby 
 that for days had been his cherished 
 companion. Though an examination of 
 his body revealed no marks of violence, 
 he was evidently in great pain. Apply 
 ing such restoratives as were at hand, 
 we gradually revived consciousness. 
 Every attempt, however, to lift him or 
 change his reclining position visibly 
 increased his suffering. 
 
 Word soon came back that no physi 
 cian could be found, that the accident 
 was caused by the train coming into 
 collision with a band of stray cattle. 
 232 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 So far as could be hastily ascertained, 
 one man had been fatally injured, while 
 many persons had sustained serious 
 bruises and strains. From the train 
 conductor it was further learned that 
 neither the locomotive nor any of 
 the cars had been sufficiently dam 
 aged to prevent our proceeding to 
 Omaha still some five or six hours 
 distant. 
 
 After a brief stop for the purpose of 
 a careful examination of all parts of the 
 train, we were again under way; the 
 engineer having orders, in view of the 
 injured passengers, to make the run in 
 the fastest time possible. 
 
 The remainder of the journey was, 
 even to the most fortunate, associated 
 with sadness. But whatever the suffer 
 ing on that ill-fated train, memory car 
 ries me back to but one sorrowful scene, 
 - the bedside about which lingered the 
 friends of the little stranger whom we 
 233 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 had learned to love so well. In the 
 presence of his suffering pur own lesser 
 injuries were forgotten, and all efforts 
 were bent upon securing for the little 
 sufferer every comfort possible under 
 the adverse circumstances. With a 
 view to lessening the painful effect of 
 the constant jarring and shaking mo 
 tion, a swinging bed was speedily im 
 provised in the middle of the car, and 
 here, surrounded by his sorrowing com 
 panions, lay Grit, enduring in silence 
 the pains that his pale, sadly troubled 
 face so keenly expressed. 
 
 Late in the evening the train reached 
 its destination, without further mishap. 
 
 It had not yet come to a standstill in 
 the station when, accompanied by the 
 sleeping-car conductor, the father of 
 Grit entered the car. Early in the day 
 it had been resolved by the passengers 
 that three of their number should meet 
 the father upon his arrival, for the pur- 
 234 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 pose of exonerating the conductor from 
 any carelessness, and also for offering 
 their assistance in caring for the child 
 during the night. Now, however, re 
 minded of their former happy anticipa 
 tion of the meeting between parent and 
 child, a shudder of sadness caused them 
 irresistibly to shrink from a scene of 
 welcome more deeply sad, even, than 
 that sorrowful parting which they had 
 witnessed on entering upon their jour 
 ney a few days before. 
 
 As the stranger, deeply agitated, anx 
 iously made his way to the central 
 group, however, earnest sympathy 
 found ready expression; and ere his 
 eye had met the object of its search a 
 friendly voice checked and bade him be 
 calm and hopeful. " Your child, sir," 
 continued the speaker reassuringly, 
 " has not entirely recovered from the 
 rough shaking-up we got a little while 
 ago. He had a lucky escape, but now 
 235 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 needs rest and quiet, and you and I 
 had perhaps better go for a doctor, 
 while our friends here convey the boy 
 to the hotel, where we shall join them 
 shortly." And as the uneasy parent 
 bends over the little bed and with in 
 quiring look seeks from the calm blue 
 eyes some token of recognition or sign 
 of hope, the voice, more urgent as 
 though suddenly stirred by memories of 
 an eventful past again breaks in: 
 " Let us lose no time in making the 
 child more comfortable." 
 
 A few moments later Grit s friends 
 stood around his bed at the neighbor 
 ing hotel, listening to the verdict of the 
 physician hastily summoned by the big- 
 hearted pioneer. Internal injury of an 
 extent unknown, but whose nature 
 would probably develop before morn 
 ing, was the verdict given after a care 
 ful examination. Alleviating measures, 
 however, were suggested, which the dis- 
 236 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 tracted father hastened to put into ef 
 fect. It was during one of his absences 
 from the room that the big-hearted 
 pioneer, drawing the doctor to one side, 
 appealed to him in faltering tones to 
 save the child " at any sacrifice or any 
 cost, 
 
 But the appeal, though touching, was 
 unnecessary. Higher considerations 
 than those of personal gain prompted 
 the kind doctor to exercise his utmost 
 skill. After his first visit not an hour 
 passed but what his footsteps brought 
 to the watchers reassuring proof of his 
 deep interest in the case. And finally, 
 yielding apparently to the soothing 
 remedies, Grit fell into slumber that 
 brought encouragement to his friends, 
 none of whom could be induced, how 
 ever, to forsake his bedside. 
 
 During the vigils of the night the 
 father was repeatedly moved to speak 
 of the sorrows of his life; of the sud- 
 237 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 den, fatal illness of his loving young 
 wife; and of her ardent assurance that 
 her last thoughts were solely of himself 
 " and baby," coupled with the fervent 
 wish that the two might " some day 
 find a home in California, where in 
 their final rest all three might once 
 again be side by side." 
 
 Towards morning the boy grew sud 
 denly restive, and violent coughing 
 spells brought back the condition of 
 semi-unconsciousness of the previous 
 day. The doctor, evidently expecting 
 a crisis, now remained constantly at his 
 side. 
 
 The change came at last. 
 
 Just after dawn a beam of light 
 broke softly over the little face, and 
 new hope came to the anxious watch 
 ers. But, mistaking the silent messen 
 ger s approach for the herald of return 
 ing health, they had hoped in vain. 
 The peaceful smile lingered but a mo- 
 238 
 
Asleep at Lone Mountain 
 
 inent, then returned once again, as 
 though the beckoning spirit 
 
 " Was loth to quit its hold," 
 
 and Grit had fallen asleep. 
 
 As a token of affection for her child, 
 and in compliance with the dying moth 
 er s wish, the friends of Grit secured 
 for the husband and father chiefly 
 through the generosity of one whose 
 deeds shall outlive the recollection of 
 his name a permanent home in Cali 
 fornia; while the boy sleeps by her 
 side, where the peaceful silence he so 
 sweetly symbolized is never broken 
 save by the weird lullaby of the waves 
 that gently rise and fall over the dis 
 tant shadows of Lone Mountain. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 230 
 
From 
 
 L. C. Page & Company s 
 
 Announcement List 
 
 of New Fiction 
 
 THE STORY GIRL 
 
 By L. M. MONTGOMERY. 
 
 Cloth, 12mo, illustrated, decorative jacket . . $1.50 
 
 To quote from one of our editor s reports on the new Mont 
 gomery book " Miss Montgomery has decidedly arrived in this 
 story! " The remarkable success of her delightful ANNE books 
 and of the charming " Kilmeny of the Orchard " has established 
 her as one of America s leading authors a writer of books 
 which touch the heart, uplift the spirit, and leave an imprint of 
 lasting sweetness on the memory. But in " The Story Girl," 
 everywhere the touch of the finished artist is evident a smooth 
 ness and polish which heightens the unusual style of a gifted 
 author. 
 
 The environment is again the author s beloved Prince Edward 
 Island and the story and incidents possess the same simplicity 
 and charm which characterize Miss Montgomery s earlier books. 
 The Story Girl, herself Sara Stanley is a fascinating 
 creature, and will delight and thrill her readers with her weird 
 tales of ghosts " and things." She tells in wondrous voice of 
 " The Mystery of the Golden Milestone," " How Kissing Was 
 Discovered." and of just how the Milky Way happened into the 
 heavens. She will make you feel the spell of the old orchard 
 where she and her playmates spend such happy days, and with 
 Felix, Dan and Beverly you will live again with her the " trage 
 dies of childhood." 
 
 Of Miss Montgomery s previous books, the reviewers have 
 written as follows: 
 
 " The art which pervades every page is so refined that the cul 
 tivated imagination will return to the story again and again in 
 memory to find always something fresh to enjoy." Toronto 
 World. 
 
 " Miss Montgomery has attained an honored place among the 
 worth-while writers of fiction." Beacon and Budget. 
 
 " Miss Montgomery has a sympathetic knowledge of human 
 nature, joined to high ideals, a reasonably romantic view point 
 and a distinct gift of description." Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
L. C. PAGE dr* COMPANY S 
 
 A CAPTAIN OF RALEIGH S 
 
 By G. E. THEODORE ROBERTS, author of " A Cavalier of Vir 
 ginia," " Comrades of the Trails," " Red Feathers," etc. 
 Cloth, 12mo, illustrated, decorative jacket 
 
 Net $1.25 (carriage, 13c. extra) 
 
 A typical Roberts romance dashing and brisk with the 
 scenes for the most part laid in the infant colony of Newfound 
 land, at the time when Sir Walter Raleigh and other famous 
 captains swept the seas for England. Sir Walter is one of the 
 characters in the romance but the chief interest centres about one 
 of his officers, Captain John Percy. 
 
 Elizabeth Duwaney, the heroine, is beautiful and vivacious 
 enough to quite turn the heads of the several gallant gentlemen 
 who struggle for her hand, and to keep the reader guessing until 
 the very last page as to which suitor will find favor in her eyes. 
 Unusual and unexpected situations in the plot are handled skil 
 fully and you close the book agreeing with our editor that " Mr. 
 Roberts has given us another capital yarn! " 
 
 " Mr. Roberts has undoubted skill in portraying character 
 and carrying events along to a satisfactory conclusion." 
 The Smart Set. 
 
 " One can always predict of a book by Mr. Roberts that it 
 will be interesting. One can go further and predict that the book 
 will be fascinating, exciting and thrilling." Boston Globe. 
 
 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE 
 
 By ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS, author of " An Enemy to the 
 King," " Philip Winwood," etc., and G. E. THEODORE 
 ROBERTS, author of " Hemming, the Adventurer," " Red 
 Feathers," etc. 
 
 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated .... $1.50 
 The many admirers of the brilliant historical romances of the 
 late Robert Neilson Stephens will be gratified at the announce 
 ment of a posthumous work by that gifted writer. The rough 
 draft of the story was laid aside for other work, and later, with 
 out completing the novel, the plot was utilized for a play. With 
 the play completed Mr. Stephens again turned his attention to 
 the novel, but death prevented its completion. Mr. Roberts has 
 handled his difficult task of completing the work with care and 
 skill. 
 
 The story, Hke that of " The Continental Dragoon," takes as 
 its theme an incident in the Revolution, and, as in the earlier 
 novel, the scene is the " debatable ground " north of New York. 
 In interest of plot and originality of development it is as re 
 markable as the earlier work, but it is more mature, more force 
 ful, more real. 
 
LIST OF NEW FICTION 
 
 THE DILEMMA OF ENGELTIE 
 
 By EMMA RAYNER, author of " Free to Serve," etc. 
 
 Cloth, 12mo, illustrated. Net $1.35 (carriage, 12c. extra) 
 
 Given a wedding irrevocably decreed, the date of the actual 
 ceremony somewhere on the limits of a fortnight ahead; given 
 a bride but not a groom, a maid of the old Dutch New York days, 
 pretty enough to turn men s heads for her beauty alone, well 
 dowered enough to be one of the prizes of the decade; the wedding 
 festivities, merrymakings these Dutch colonial worthies loved 
 to give to prospective brides and grooms, in full swing; half a 
 dozen young Dutchmen with hands outstretched ready to grasp 
 the prize and reciprocate the maiden s vows would she but nod 
 their way; the wedding itself as sure as fate or death; the bride 
 upon the scene, receiving the honors of the occasion alone; 
 the bridegroom an unknown quantity; the days racing by in 
 mirth and festivity and the wedding daily drawing nearer; 
 problem find the bridegroom ! 
 
 The setting for this unusual situation is quaint New Nether 
 lands, in 1702, shortly after England had succeeded in wresting 
 from Holland her prosperous colony in the New World. The 
 sharp contrast between the primitive conditions of the neigh 
 boring settlements and the comparative luxury of the town is 
 well portrayed, and forms an everchanging background to a 
 tale of unusual excellence both in the conception and in the 
 development of its novel plot. 
 
 New edition (Tenth Printing] of 
 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Bv EMMA RAYNER. The novel that made the author famous. 
 
 Cloth, 12mo, with a frontispiece in full color by George Gibbs. 
 
 $1.50 
 
 " After reading Emma Rayner s tale of Colonial New York, 
 Free to Serve/ what has impressed one the most is its vividness 
 of atmosphere. The spirit of the early eighteenth century has 
 been caught to perfection, and transferred to every page. One 
 lives in a picturesque past, and thinks not of the complicated 
 world of to-day, save as the impulses and motives animating 
 human beings are the same now as then." Boston Times. 
 
 " To the charm of a story well conceived and cleverly told is 
 added the interest of characters that until now have been unusual 
 in present-day fiction." New York Press. 
 
 " In Free to Serve we have a book that rises from out of 
 the dull monotony of mediocrity and amply deserves considera 
 tion." The Philadelphia American. 
 
L. C. PAGE &> COMPANY S 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF MADELYN MACK 
 
 By HUGH C. WEIR. 
 
 Cloth, 12mo, illustrated $1.50 
 
 Lovers of rapid action, ingenious situations and excitement 
 will find abundant entertainment in following the adventures 
 and career of Madelyn Mack a veritable wizard at her trade 
 
 the heroine of this clever and straightforward detective novel. 
 Her career is brimful of excitement, one continuous series of 
 adventures, which constitute a tale of swift and dramatic action. 
 Clever in plot and effective in style, the author has seized on 
 some of the most sensational features of modern life, and the 
 reader who has a grain of fancy or imagination may be defied 
 to lay this book down once he has begun it until the last WOK! is 
 reached. 
 
 MISS BILLY 
 
 By ELEANOR H. PORTER. 
 
 Cloth, 12mo, illustrated. Net $1.25 (carriage, 12c. extra) 
 
 " Billy," in this instance, is the name of a very dainty and 
 pretty girl with pink cheeks and a wealth of curly hair and the 
 sweetest of smiles. When you first meet her in the story she is 
 all that her name implies an impulsive, warm-hearted girl of 
 eighteen who quite unknowingly succeeds in completely upsetting 
 the quiet and dignity of the Beacon Street household of the three 
 Henshaw boys, who had hitherto lived an uneventful life in 
 " The Strata," as the old Boston mansion was fittingly termed 
 by Bertram, the youngest of the brothers. But Billy grows up, 
 and almost before she herself realizes it a romance has entered 
 her life one of those charming and refreshing romances which 
 strike a sympathetic chord in the hearts of its readers and bring 
 back fond memories of " the glamour and joys of youth." 
 
 THE RED FOX S SON 
 
 By EDGAR M. DILLEY. 
 
 Cloth, 12mo. With a frontispiece in color by John Goss $1.50 
 
 Picturesque Bharbazpnia a province of the Balkan peninsula 
 
 is the setting for this sparkling " Zenda " novel, which quite 
 surpasses the regulation story of modern mystery and adventure, 
 when the dashing young American goes to the mythical, but 
 interesting Balkan State, and creates havoc in the hearts of the 
 Slavs, himself becoming a slave to the beautiful princess of the 
 country. It is a romance rich in exciting detail, and has glamour, 
 dash, vivacity and spirit of the most pleasing order. In every 
 page of " The Red Fox s Son " the fiction lover will find fascina 
 ting reading. 
 
LIST OF NEW FICTION 
 
 GEORGE THORNE 
 
 By NORVAL RICHARDSON, author of the big Southern novel 
 
 " The Lead of Honour," already in its sixth large printing. 
 
 Frontispiece in full color, decorative jacket, cloth, 12mo. 
 
 Net $1.25 (carriage, 12c. extra) 
 
 Mr. Richardson s new story is striking in thought and treat 
 ment. Taking a man from the rubbish heap of poverty, the 
 author places him in surroundings of wealth and refinement, and 
 then traces the effect of the new influences upon his character. 
 
 Of " The Lead of Honour " the critics have written as follows: 
 
 " The Lead of Honour cannot but make those who read it 
 better pleased with life and with humanity (the which is much)." 
 Chicago Inter-Ocean. 
 
 11 Mr. Richardson has given us a story which is well worth 
 the perusal." Boston Transcript. 
 
 " A story of much more than usual merit. It is seldom that 
 one turns away from a work of fiction with more reluctance to 
 part company with its people and with a greater impetus towards 
 one s own best." Boston Herald. 
 
 " It is rarely that a love story is written in these days that has 
 in it so much of pure and lofty sentiment, of so high ideals and 
 so absorbing in its romance that the reader for the time is lifted 
 out of himself. It is a novel which really stands on a pinnacle 
 as contrasted with much of the current fiction of the day." 
 Springfield Union. 
 
 11 Mr. Richardson has an excellent style, a gift of character- 
 drawing and much emotional power." Providence Journal. 
 
 DIONIS OF THE WHITE VEIL 
 
 By CAROLINE BROWN, author of " Knights of Fustian," " On 
 
 the We-A Trail," etc. 
 
 Cloth, 12mo, illustrated, decorative jacket . . . $1.50 
 
 A romance of the early days of the eighteenth century, with 
 the scenes for the most part laid in the region bordering the 
 Mississippi, from Louisiana north towards the Illinois country. 
 
 When the gay and handsome Chevalier Fauchet first sets eyes 
 upon the heroine, Dionis Montfort, she has entered upon her 
 novitiate, and is to take the vows of a nun in less than a week s 
 time. Fauchet, a universal lover, gallant always, serious never, 
 is attracted by the demure and innocent novice, at first because 
 of her beauty; but later when he realizes that it is real affection 
 he feels for the girl, the Chevalier determines that the Church 
 must fight him for her life s devotion. How fate throws the 
 two together, allowing love finally to triumph over the Church, 
 makes a romance remarkable in its consistent and absorbing 
 charm. 
 
Z. C. PAGE & COMPANY^ 
 
 THE CASE OF PAUL BREEN 
 
 By ANTHONY TUDOR, LL.B. 
 
 Cloth, 12mo, illustrated by Henry Roth, decorative jacket. 
 
 $1.50 
 
 A positive, strong human novel, the story of an innocent man 
 caught in the legal meshes of circumstantial evidence. The 
 plot is new and its development most striking, while the story 
 is handled throughout in masterly and dignified fashion by a 
 writer whose style is at all times convincing and forceful. He 
 has had the courage to go right to the heart of things, and bare 
 for his readers gaze the very souls of his characters. It is a 
 powerful work one which will probably be called a " bold 
 novel," and not only is it of intense interest, but it is a story 
 which furnishes much food for thought. 
 
 THE RED-HOT DOLLAR 
 
 By H. D. UMBSTAETTER. 
 
 Cloth decorative $1.00 
 
 For three reasons this little book will arouse interest. First, 
 because of the stories themselves, next, because their author, 
 H. D. Umbstaetter, is the founder and publisher of The Black 
 Cat, which, to quote the New York Tribune, " has done more for 
 short-story readers and short-story writers than any other 
 periodical," and last, but not least, because of the unique intro 
 duction by Jack London. Only once in a long time do we come 
 across such a unique collection of stories as Mr. Umbstaetter s, 
 containing as it does stories that are clever in conception, well- 
 written and just the right length to be entertaining, and as Mr. 
 London aptly says, stories that are true Black Cat stories. 
 
 The stories, twelve in all, are so absorbingly interesting and so 
 unusual in the realm of fiction, embodying as they do amusing 
 character sketches, tales of humor, pathos, mystery and adven 
 ture, that they will undoubtedly appeal to a large class of readers 
 who are not attracted to the ordinary in fiction. 
 
Selections from 
 L. C. Page and Company s 
 List of Fiction 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS 
 
 Each one vol., library IZmo, cloth decorative . . SI. 50 
 
 THE FLIGHT OF GEORGIANA 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DAYS OF THE YOUNG PRETENDER, Illus 
 trated by H. C. Edwards. 
 
 " A love-story in the highest degree, a dashing story, and a re 
 markably well finished piece of work." Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
 THE BRIGHT FACE OF DANGER 
 
 Being an account of some adventures of Henri de Launay, son 
 of the Sieur de la Tournoire. Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. 
 " Mr. Stephens has fairly outdone himself. We thank him 
 
 heartily. The story is nothing if not spirited and entertaining, 
 
 rational and convincing." Boston Transcript. 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF MURRAY DAVENPORT 
 
 (40th thousand.) 
 
 " This is easily the best thing that Mr. Stephens has yet done. 
 Those familiar with his other novels can best judge the measure 
 of this praise, which is generous." Buffalo News. 
 
 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW 
 
 OR, THE MAID OF CHEAPSIDE. (52d thousand.) A romance 
 of Elizabethan London. Illustrations by Howard Pyle and 
 other artists. 
 
 Not since the absorbing adventures of D Artagnan have we had 
 anything so good in the blended vein of romance and comedy. 
 
 THE CONTINENTAL DRAGOON 
 
 A ROMANCE OF PHILIPSE MANOR HOUSE IN 1778. (53d 
 thousand.) Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. 
 A stirring romance of the Resolution, with its scenes laid on 
 neutral territory. 
 
L. C. PAGE <& COMPANY S 
 
 PHILIP WINWOOD 
 
 (70th thousand.) A Sketch of the Domestic History of an 
 American Captain in the War of Independence, embracing 
 events that occurred between and during the years 1763 and 
 1785 in New York and London, Illustrated by E, W. D 
 Hamilton. 
 
 AN ENEMY TO THE KING 
 
 (70th thousand.) From the " Recently Discovered Memoir* 
 of the Sieur de la Tournoire." Illustrated by H. De M. Young, 
 An historical romance of the sixteenth century, describing the 
 
 adventures of a young French nobleman at the court of Henry 
 
 III., and on the field with Henry IV. 
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS 
 
 A STORY OF ADVENTURE. (35th thousand.) Illustrated bj 
 
 H. C. Edwards. 
 
 An historical romance of the eighteenth century, being an 
 account of the life of an American gentleman adventurer a 
 Jacobite ancestry. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN PLAYER 
 
 His ADVENTURES ON A SECRET MISSION FOR QUEEN ELIZA- 
 BETH. (48th thousand.) Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 
 The story of a young gentleman who joins Shakespeare s com 
 pany of players, and becomes a friend and protege of the greaft 
 poet. 
 
 CLEMENTINA S HIGHWAYMAN 
 
 Cloth decorative, illustrated . $1.50 
 
 Mr. Stephens has put into his new book, " Clementina s High 
 wayman," the finest qualities of plot, construction, and literary 
 finish. 
 
 The story is laid in the mid-Georgian period. It is a dashing, 
 sparkling, vivacious comedy, with a heroine as lovely and 
 changeable as an April day, and a hero all ardor and daring, 
 
 TALES FROM BOHEMIA 
 
 Illustrated by Wallace Goldsmith. 
 
 Cloth, decorative cover $1.50 
 
 These bright and clever tales deal with people of the theatre 
 and odd characters in other walks of life which fringe on Bohemia 
 
LIST OF FICTION 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS 
 
 HAUNTERS OF THE SILENCES 
 
 Cloth, one volume, with many drawings by Charles Livingston 
 Bull, four of which are in full color . . . $2.00 
 
 The stories in Mr. Roberta s new collection are the strongest and 
 best he has ever written. 
 
 He has largely taken for his subjects those animals rarely met 
 with in books, whose lives are spent " In the Silences," where they 
 are the supreme rulers. Mr. Roberts has written of them sympa 
 thetically, as always, but with fine regard for the scientific truth. 
 " As a writer about animals, Mr. Roberts occupies an enviable 
 place. He is the most literary, as well as the most imaginative 
 and vivid of all the nature writers." Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 RED FOX 
 
 THE STORY OF His ADVENTUROUS CAREER IN THE RINGWAAK 
 WILDS, AND OF His FINAL TRIUMPH OVER THE ENEMIES OF 
 His KIND. With fifty illustrations, including frontispiece in 
 color and cover design by Charles Livingston Bull. 
 Square quarto, cloth decorative . . . . $2.00 
 
 " True in substance but fascinating as fiction. It will interest 
 old and young, city-bound and free- footed, those who know ani 
 mals and those who do not." Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
 " A brilliant chapter in natural history." Philadelphia North 
 American. 
 
 THE KINDRED OF THE WILD 
 
 A BOOK OF ANIMAL LIFE. With fifty-one full-page plates and 
 many decorations from drawings by Charles Livingston Bull 
 
 Square quarto, decorative cover $2.00 
 
 " Is in many wave the most brilliant collection of animal stories 
 that has appeared; well named and well done." John Bur 
 roughs. 
 
 THE WATCHERS OF THE TRAILS 
 
 A companion volume to " The Kindred of the Wild." With 
 forty-eight full-page plates and many decorations from draw 
 ings by Charles Livingston Bull. 
 Square quarto, decorative cover $2.00 
 
L. C. PAGE <5r COMPANY S 
 
 " These stories are exquisite in their refinement, and yet robust 
 in their appreciation of some of the rougher phases of woodcraft. 
 Among the many writers about animals, Mr. Roberts occupies an 
 enviable place." The Outlook. 
 
 " This is a book full of delight. An additional charm lies in Mr. 
 Bull s faithful and graphic illustrations, which in fashion all their 
 own tell the story of the wild life, illuminating and supplementing 
 the pen pictures of the author." Literary Digest. 
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WATER 
 
 With thirty full-page illustrations by Charles Livingston Bull 
 and Frank Vining Smith. Cover design and decorations by 
 Charles Livingston Bull. 
 
 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 " Every paragraph is a splendid picture, suggesting in a few 
 
 words the appeal of the vast, illimitable wilderness." The 
 
 Chicago Tribune. 
 
 THE HEART THAT KNOWS 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50 
 
 " A novel of singularly effective strength, luminous hi literary 
 
 color, rich in its passionate, yet tender drama." New York Globe. 
 
 EARTH S ENIGMAS 
 
 A new edition of Mr. Roberta s first volume of fiction, pub 
 lished in 1892, and out of print for several years, with the addi 
 tion of three new stories, and ten illustrations by Charles 
 Livingston Bull. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . . $1.50 
 " It will rank high among collections of short stories. In 
 Earth s Enigmas is a wider range of subject than in the Kin 
 dred of the Wild. " Review from advance sheets of the illustrated 
 edition by Tiffany Blake in the Chicago Evening Post 
 
 BARBARA LADD 
 
 With four illustrations by Frank Verbeck. 
 Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover .... $1.50 
 " From the opening chapter to the final page Mr. Roberts lures 
 us on by his rapt devotion to the changing aspects of Nature and 
 by his keen and sympathetic analysis of human character." 
 Boston Transcript 
 
LIST OF FICTION 
 
 CAMERON OF LOCHIEL 
 
 Translated from the French of Philippe Aubert de Gaspe", with 
 
 frontispiece in color by H. C. Edwards. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 " Professor Roberts deserves the thanks of his reader for giving 
 a wider audience an opportunity to enjoy this striking bit of 
 French Canadian literature." Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 THE PRISONER OF MADEMOISELLE 
 
 With frontispiece by Frank T. Merrill. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 A tale of Acadia, a land which is the author s heart s delight, 
 
 of a valiant young lieutenant and a winsome maiden, who first 
 
 captures and then captivates. 
 
 THE HEART OF THE ANCIENT WOOD 
 
 With six illustrations by James L. Weston. 
 
 Library 12mo, decorative cover $1.50 
 
 " One of the most fascinating novels of recent days." Boston 
 Journal. 
 
 " A classic twentieth-century romance." New York Commer 
 cial Advertiser. 
 
 THE FORGE IN THE FOREST 
 
 Being the Narrative of the Acadian Ranger, Jean de Mer, 
 Seigneur de Briart, and how he crossed the Black Abb 4, and 
 of his adventures in a strange fellowship. Illustrated by Henry 
 Sandham, R. C. A. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative . . . . $1.50 
 A story of pure love and heroic adventure. 
 
 BY THE MARSHES OF MINAS 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . $1.50 
 Most of these romances are in the author s lighter and more 
 
 playful vein; each is a unit of absorbing interest and exquisite 
 
 workmanship. 
 
 A SISTER TO EVANGELINE 
 
 Being the Story of Yvonne de Lamourie, and how she went into 
 exile with the villagers of Grand Pre". 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 
 Swift action, fresh atmosphere, wholesome purity, deep pas 
 sion, and searching analysis characterize this strong novel. 
 
L. C. PAGE &> COMPANY S 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 L. M* MONTGOMERY 
 ANNE OF GREEN GABLES 
 
 Illustrated by M. A. and W. A. J. Glaus. 12mo . $1.50 
 " Anne of Green Gables " is beyond question the most popular 
 girl heroine in recent years. Poets, statesmen, humorists, critics, 
 and the great public have lost their hearts to the charming Anne. 
 " Anne of Green Gables " is not a book of a season, to attain a 
 wide popularity for a brief space and sink into oblivion with many 
 another " best seller," but its literary merit is such that it is 
 bound to have a permanent place in literature and continue to 
 increase in popularity with each succeeding season. 
 
 " In Anne of Green Gables you will find the dearest and most 
 moving and delightful child since the immortal Alice." Mark 
 Twain in a letter to Francis Wilson. 
 
 ANNE OF AVONLEA 
 
 Illustrated by George Gibbs. 12mp . . . . $1.50 
 
 In this volume Anne is as fascinating as ever, and the author 
 has introduced several new characters, including the highly 
 imaginative and charming little boy, Paul Irving, whose quaint 
 sayings will recall to the reader the delightful Anne on her first 
 appearance at Green Gables. 
 
 " Here we have a book as human as David Harum, a heroine 
 who outcharms a dozen princesses of fiction, and reminds you 
 of some sweet girl you know, or knew back in the days when the 
 world was young and you threw away your sponge that you 
 might have to borrow hers to clean your slate." San Francisco 
 Bulletin. 
 
 11 A book to lift the spirit and send the pessimist into bank 
 ruptcy! " Meredith Nicholson. 
 
 KILMENY OF THE ORCHARD 
 
 Illustrated by George Gibbs $1.25 
 
 " Kilmeny of the Orchard is a book of rare quality, difficult 
 to describe but evident to those who have eyes to see." The 
 Bookshelf. 
 
 " Kilmeny of the Orchard is a story born in the heart of 
 Arcadia and brimful of the sweet and simple life of the primitive 
 environment." Boston Herald. 
 
 " Kilmeny of the Orchard is a story of decidedly unusual 
 conception and interest, and will rival this author s earlier works 
 in popularity." Kalamaz6o Evening Press. 
 
LIST OF FICTION 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 LILIAN BELL 
 
 CAROLINA LEE 
 
 With a frontispiece in color by Dora Wheeler Keith. 
 Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . $1 50 
 
 " A charming portrayal of the attractive life of the South, 
 
 refreshing as a breeze that blows through a pine forest " 
 
 Albany Times-Union. 
 
 HOPE LORING 
 
 Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50 
 
 " Tall, slender, and athletic, fragile-looking, vet with nerves 
 
 and sinews of steel under the velvet flesh, frank as a boy and 
 
 tender and beautiful as a woman, free and independent, yet not 
 
 bold such is Hope Loring. " Dorothy Dix. 
 
 ABROAD WITH THE JIMMIES 
 
 With a portrait in duogravure, of the author. 
 Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . . $1.50 
 " Full of ozone, of snap, of ginger, of swing and momentum." 
 Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 AT HOME WITH THE JARDINES 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover .... $1 50 
 " Bits of gay humor, sunny, whimsical philosophy, and keen 
 indubitable insight into the less evident i.spects and workings 
 of pure human nature, with a slender thread of a cleverly 
 extraneous love story, keep the interest of the reader fresh." 
 Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
 THE CONCENTRATIONS OF BEE 
 
 With colored frontispiece 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth, decorative ccver . . . . $1.50 
 
 " One of the cleverest women writers of fiction is Lilian Bell. 
 
 She belongs to the younger class, old enough to have experience, 
 
 but not old enough to have lost the saving grace of enthusiasm " 
 
 Los Angeles Express. 
 
 THE INTERFERENCE OF PATRICIA AND A 
 BOOK OF GIRLS 
 
 With a frontispiece from drawing by Frank T. Merrill. 
 Library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50 
 
 "Lilian Bell surely understands girls, for she depicts all the 
 variations of girl nature so charmingly." Chicago Journal. 
 
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY S 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 MORLEY ROBERTS 
 
 RACHEL MARR 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 " A novel of tremendous force." Elia W. Peattie 
 " In atmosphere, if nothing else, the story is absolutely per 
 fect." Boston Transcript. 
 
 LADY PENELOPE 
 
 With nine illustrations by Arthur W. Brown. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 " A fresh and original bit of comedy as amusing as it is auda 
 cious." Boston Transcript. 
 
 THE IDLERS 
 
 With frontispiece in color by John C. Frohn. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 " It is as absorbing as the devil." The New York Sun. 
 
 THE PROMOTION OF THE ADMIRAL 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 
 
 " If any one writes better sea stories than Mr. Roberts, we 
 
 don t know who it is; and if there is a better sea story of its kind 
 
 than this it would be a joy to have the pleasure of reading it." 
 
 New York Sun. 
 
 THE FLYING CLOUD 
 
 Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece . . $1.50 
 "It is the drama of the sea: human nature stripped naked 
 
 by salt water alchemy and painted as only the author or Joseph 
 
 Conrad could paint it." New York Times. 
 
 THE BLUE PETER 
 
 With frontispiece by Henry Roth. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 " It is not too much to say of Morley Roberts that he is one of 
 
 the very few writers of to-day who live up to the best traditions 
 
 of the sea story." The Bookman. 
 
 DAVID BRAN 
 
 Cloth decorative, with frontispiece in color . . . $1.50 
 In " David Bran " Mr. Roberts presents in a new light the old 
 story of a man and two women. 
 
LIST OF FICTION 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 ALICE MacGOWAN AND GRACE Mac- 
 
 GOWAN COOKE 
 RETURN 
 
 With six illustrations by C. D. Williams. 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative . . . . $1.50 
 
 " So rich in color is this story, so crowded with figures, it seems 
 like a bit of old Italian wall painting." New York Sun. 
 
 THE GRAPPLE 
 
 With frontispiece in color by Arthur W. Brown. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 " The story is so original, so strong, and so finely told that it 
 deserves a large and thoughtful public." N. Y. Times. 
 
 THE LAST WORD 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . $1.50 
 " A charming, and wholly fascinating piece of fiction." 
 Louisville Post. 
 
 HULDAH 
 
 With illustrations by Fanny Y. Cory. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 Here we have the great-hearted, capable woman of the Texas 
 plains. 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 NATHAN GALLIZffiR 
 THE SORCERESS OF ROME 
 
 With four drawings in color by " The Kinneys." 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 The love-story of Otto III., the boy emperor, and Stephania, 
 wife of the Senator Crescentius of Rome. 
 
 CASTEL DEL MONTE 
 
 With six illustrations by H. C. Edwards. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 A romance of the fall of the Hohenstaufen dynasty in Italy. 
 
 THE COURT OF LUCIFER 
 
 With four drawings in color by " The Kinneys." 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 An historical romance woven around the famous Borgia family. 
 
L. C. PAGE S* COMPANY S 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 OTHER AUTHORS 
 
 A GENTLEMAN OF QUALITY 
 
 By FREDERICK VAN RENSSELAER DEY. 
 Cloth decorative, with frontispiece in color . . . $1.50 
 " A romance that is vivid and original. The author shows a 
 great gift of originality and dramatic insight. It is a story that 
 will hold firmly the attention of even the veteran novel reader 
 to the end." The Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF QUINCY ADAMS 
 SAWYER AND MASON S CORNER FOLKS 
 
 By CHARLES FELTON PIDGIN, author of " Quincy Adams 
 Sawyer," " Blennerhasset," " Stephen Holton," etc. 
 Cloth decorative, illustrated by Henry Roth . . . $1.50 
 " The book is intensely human, bright, witty, hopeful, kindly, 
 and interesting." Christian Endeavor World. 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF MISS MOTTE 
 
 By CAROLINE ATWATER MASON, author of " A Lily of France." 
 Cloth decorative, with frontispiece in color . . $1.25 
 "It is a clean, wholesome story of present-day life, with 
 
 nothing far-fetched or overdrawn." United Presbyterian. 
 " A love story particularly neat and sweet, in which mystery 
 
 plays a part. Mrs. Mason develops her romance skilfully against 
 
 a very pleasant social background." New York World. 
 
 THE CALL OF THE SOUTH 
 
 By ROBERT LEE DURHAM. 
 
 Cloth decorative, illustrated by Henry Roth . . $1.50 
 
 " A terrific story but a true one this is what the thinking 
 world is saying concerning The Call of the South. " The 
 Baltimore Sun. 
 
 " The force of the book is tremendous. In dramatic power it 
 equals Tolstoi s Resurrection. " Rev. Martin D. Hardin. 
 
 TAG; OR, THE CHIEN BOULE DOG 
 
 By VALANCE PATRIARCHE. 
 
 Illustrated by Wallace Goldsmith. 
 
 Cloth decorative $1.00 
 
 " It is fresh in plot, bright and merry in spirit, full of kindly 
 humor in style and incident." Grand Rapids Herald. 
 
 " The entire tale is a delightful bit of humor." Portland 
 Press. 
 
LTS7 OF FICTION II 
 
 A CAVALIER OF VIRGINIA 
 
 By G. E. THEODORE ROBERTS, author of " Hemming, the 
 
 Adventurer," " Captain Love," etc. 
 
 Library 12mp, cloth decorative, illustrated . ^ . $1.50 
 
 " The story is a thrilling one, well told, with an interest that 
 is sustained from start to finish." Portland Evening Express. 
 
 " A story which people will want to read. It so grips with 
 its interest that having once begun there is no stopping-place 
 short of the end." Boston Transcript. 
 
 BAHAMA BILL 
 
 By T. JENKINS HAINS, author of " The Black Barque," 
 " The Voyage of the Arrow," etc. With frontispiece in color 
 by H. R. Reuterdahl. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 " As for Bahama Bill, the reader will like him whether he will 
 
 or no; he dominates the book, unscrupulous though he may be. 
 
 Nevertheless there is not a mean streak in him. We shall be 
 
 tempted to read l Bahama Bill, several times." Springfield 
 
 Union. 
 
 THE LEAD OF HONOUR 
 
 By NORVAL RICHARDSON. With frontispiece in color by 
 
 Frank T. Merrill. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 " It is rarely that a love story is written in these days that has 
 in it so much of fine and lofty sentiment, of so high ideals and so 
 absorbing in its romance that the reader for the time is lifted 
 out of himself." Springfield Union. 
 
 MY HEART AND STEPHANIE 
 
 By REGINALD WRIGHT KAUFFMAN, author of " Miss Frances 
 Baird, Detective," etc. Illustrated by A. G. Lamed. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth $1.50 
 
 " The story goes with a fascinating rush which is most enter 
 taining, and so thoroughly imbued is the reader with the spirit 
 of the plot that he is almost sorry to end the mystery with the 
 last chapter, even if the ending is a most happy and logical one." 
 Boston Globe. 
 
 " Parisian life in Bohemian circles is picturesquely described, 
 and probably there has never been a better word painting of 
 restaurant gaiety than Mr. Kauffman s account of the famous 
 < Abbaye with its brilliant gathering." Philadelphia Item. 
 
12 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY S 
 
 PEGGY AT SPINSTER FARM 
 
 By HELEN M. WINSLOW, author of " Literary Boston of To 
 day," etc. 
 
 Illustrated from original photographs by Mary G. Huntsman. 
 
 12mo ... . $1.50 
 
 Whatever Miss Winslow writes is good, for she is in accord 
 
 with the life worth living. The Spinster, her niece " Peggy," 
 
 the Professor, and young Robert Graves, not forgetting 
 
 Hiram, the hired man, make a very cheerful company. 
 
 " Very alluring is the picture she draws of the old-fashioned 
 house, the splendid old trees, the pleasant walks, the gorgeous 
 sunsets, and or it would not be Helen Winslow the cats." 
 The Boston Transcript. 
 
 THE GOLDEN DOG 
 
 A ROMANCE OF QUEBEC. By WILLIAM KIRBY. 
 
 New authorized edition, printed from new plates. Illustrated 
 
 by J. W. Kennedy. 
 
 One vol., library 12mo, cloth . . . $1.25 
 
 A powerful romance of love, intrigue, and adventure in the 
 times of Louis XV. and Madame de Pompadour. Mr. Kirby has 
 shown how false prides and ambitions stalked abroad at this 
 time, how they entered the heart of man to work his destruction, 
 and particularly how they influenced a beautiful demon in female 
 form to continued vengeances." Boston Herald. 
 
 COMMENCEMENT DAYS 
 
 By VIRGINIA CHURCH. 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . $1.50 
 
 " A delightful tale of college life, one that cannot fail to appeal 
 
 to the lover of good things in fiction. It is well worth reading." 
 
 Rochester Union & Advertiser. 
 
 HELL-FIRE HARRISON 
 
 Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by Frank T. 
 
 Merrill $1.00 
 
 " The story is charmingly told, the people are alive, and the 
 plot unfolds easily and naturally." Chicago Banker. 
 
 " The story is all too brief, being an absorbing tale with plenty 
 of sparkle and life." Boston Transcrip . 
 
 " Lovers of history, as well as the gencial reader, will find this 
 story of absorbing interest, as the manners, customs, the history 
 and the religion of the time of George III. are set forth in a way 
 that proves extremely fascinating." N. Y. Evening Post. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 25Aug58AB 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 AUGH 
 
 REC D LD 
 
 FEB 9 1961 
 
 I l > w 
 
 
 REC D L.U 
 
 . 
 
 JUN 1 7 19W 
 
 
 LD 21A-50m-8, 57 
 (C8481slO)476B 
 
 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 
YB 75720