1

OFFICIAL DIRECTORY. United States Government.

President.................... Benjamin Harrison. Vice-President.................. Levi P. Morton. Secretary of State.......... James G. Blaine. Secretary of Treasury......... Wm. Windom. Secretary of War............ Redfield Proctor. Attorney General................ Wm. H. Miller. Secretary of Navy.............. Benj. F. Tracy. Postmaster General..... John Wanamaker. Secretary of Interior......... John W. Nobile. Secretary of Agriculture........... J. M. Rusk.

State of Nevada.

United States Senators..... John P. Jones. United States Senators... Wm. M. Stewart. Congressman....................... H. F. Bartine. Governor........................ C. C. Stevenson. Lieutenant-Governor.............. H. C. Davis. Justice Supreme Court....... M. A. Murphy. Clerk Supreme Court...........C. F. Bicknell. State Treasurer................... George Tufly. Secretary of State........... John M. Dormer. State Controller.................... J. F. Hallock. Attorney General......... John F. Alexander. Surveyor-General.............. John E. Jones. State Printer.......................... J. C. Harlow. Supt. Pub. Instruction........... W. C. Dovey. District Judge.................... Richard Rising. District Judge...................... R. R. Bigelow. District Judge.................... A. L. Fitzgerald - Dayton Lyon County Times, June 1, 1889

The person who robbed James Brain on the 28th of May has been discovered, arrested und will he returned to Elko for trial. He will probably be awarded a contract to work for the State, as a good harnessmaker is needed at the Penitentiary.

A Murder Arrested.

Guisippi Barni, who last Thursday night killed in Carson City, Clementi Zinoiua over a game of cards, was arrested at Reno by Constable Upson. He bad purchased a ticket to Sacramento and had taken a seat in a passenger coach which is being used as a waiting room, thinking he was on the westbound train, so says the Gaz-tte.

Strayed or Stolen

From our pasture neat Halleck, some time in April, 1889, one light bay horse, branded JHL connected, (the stems of the J and L forming the H). on left thigh, S on left shoulder and 20 on left hip. One dark bay horse branded 00 on left hip and vented on left shoulder, also branded 20 on left hip.

A suitable reward will be paid for the return of the horses to Halleck, or for information where they may be found.

Kelly & McCain,

Halleck Nev., May 8, 1889

– Elko Daily Independent, June 5, 1889

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those

who crushed in spirit.

- Psalms 34:18

SUNRISE The east is yellow as a daffodil. Three steeples—three stark swarthy

arms—are thrust Up from the town. The gnarlèd

poplars thrill Down the long street in some keen

salty gust— Straight from the sea and all the

sailing ships— Turn white, black, white again, with

noises sweet And swift. Back to the night the last

star slips. High up the air is motionless, a sheet Of light. The east grows yellower

apace, And trembles: then, once more, and

suddenly, The salt wind blows, and in that

moment’s space Flame roofs, and poplar-tops, and

steeples three; From out the mist that wraps the river

ways, The little boats, like torches, start

ablaze. -By Lizette Woodworth Reese, 1887

SCIENTIFIC.

-The application of volatile hydro carbons, in lien of water, for producing power is just now attracting considerable attention -It has been proved conclusively that there exists a relation between phenomena of a volcanic nature and telluric and atmospheric electricity. -ExPresident Andrew D. White recently sent to Cornell University a papyrus found in the tomb of a priest of the Ptolemaic period. The inscriptions, which are partly hieroglyphic, it present certain chapters of the “Book of the Dead.” With the papyrus was sent also a collection of 140 large photographs to illustrate Egyptian art. -By mixing chloride of zinc with the paper pulp in the process of manufacture, paper can be made as tough as wood or leather. The greater the degree of concentration in the zinc solution, the greater will be the toughness of the paper. The toughened paper can be used for roofing, making boats, boxes, and a multitude of other purposes. -That free swimming crustaceans are attracted to a stationary net by the electric light may now be considered established beyond a doubt and that the illuminated tow net can be used in thirty fathoms of water to great advantage to the fishermen has lately been successfully proved by the Liverpool Marine Biology Committee in recent dredging cruise. -M. Cornu gives it as his opinion that the light emitted from shooting stars is not due to conflagration or the heat of impact. In those high regions the atmosphere is too unsubstantial to render the explanation acceptable. It is much more likely, he says, that the phenomenon is Ole of static electricity developed by simple friction, and it is well known that

rarified gases can be made to glow intensely with but very little electric fluid. -Dr. Benjamin W. Richardson, who a little over twenty years ago, introduced ether spray as a means of producing local anesthesia, now makes a novel suggestion, viz, to use a jet of hihly compressed air as a cautery, heated wire or knife, in that it is less alarming and for the moment painless, as cold is an anesthetic. He mentions chlorne as a sutable gas for the purpose, but prefers carbonic anhydride as most manageable, cheap, almost inodorous. Not unwholesome and not inflammable, so that it can be needed wit artificial light.

– Lewiston Saturday Journal, Lewiston, ME. June 1, 1889

Excellent Advice.

Southern Cultivator gives the following good advice: Don’t neglect the hogs. See that all live stock have access ad libitum to salt with a little ashes mixed in it. Hill up the clean subsoil around fruit trees to the height of a foot. To remain all summer- as a protection against the borer fly. Make arrangements for saving the small grain. Never go to town to buy, unless you carry an equivalent to sell. Sell for the cash, pay cash for what you buy, and keep out of debt, as you would keep out of the fire.

Care of the Young Chicks. Remember that during the first twenty-four hours the chicks do not really require any food. The hen should be thoroughly cleaned of vermin with insect powder and placed with her brood when all are hatched. Bread crumbs and chopped egg may now be placed within her reach. For a day or two don’t trouble the flock with over attention. A good mother is one which doesn’t fuss much but attends to hovering and keeping the chicks warm- for warmth is absolutely essential. After the first two says the hen may be cooped, the chicks being allowed free egress. The coop should stand on a dry, sheltered run, out of cold winds, on sandy soil, if possible. If the coop is under cover, sunlight should be secured through glass. – The Weekly Press, Adrian, MI., June 7, 1889

TO NEW READERS. Disclaimer: Stories and articles printed

throughout this publication are from actual articles and stories printed in their respective publication of the time. None of the articles or stories have been modified and some of the language may offend some readers. If you are offended by terms, phrases, slang or other historical vocabulary you may wish to seek other forms of reading material. As this issue will find its way into the hands of a large number of new readers, we desire to direct attention to the

standard and sterling nature of the The CrossRoads.

As a family story paper, it is without a compeer among popular bi-weeklies. It is always pure, good and ably sustained. It is catered for only by the best and most welcome of popular authors. It is of the widest scope, covering the best fields of romance, story, sketch, adventure, etc., etc. It has, in every issue, numerous articles and much matter of instructive and practical values. Its humor is exceedingly enjoyable and unique. Its essays are particularly pungent and pertinent. It Answers to Correspondents are the work of able hands, and always full of interest and information. Its poetry is by favorites. In all respects it is a “STAR” journal, and deserves, as it has received, the confidence and support of all who wish for THE BEST of the POPULAR BI-WEEKLIES!

The CrossRoads is published in the

United States with the intent of educating and entertaining the readers. It is also the intent of the publisher to embrace American history and not hide from it so not to repeat the issues from our past. All proceeds go directly into the support of our temporary displaced heroes

program. The CrossRoads and Legacy

Junction are a subsidiary of the

Occupational Safety Training Institute (OSTI) a 501(c)(3) non-profit corporation. All proceeds go towards supporting training and educational programs for veterans.

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CrossRoads News that you may have already heard or been told before!

June 7, 1889 LEGACY JUNCTION NEWS AND REVIEWS NEWSPAPER Est. 2019

THE

Vol 1. No 1.

2

Here and There

Dehorning cattle has been declared illegal in England.

Some old gardeners claim that cucumber vines will bear better if they are topped.

The largest horse farm in the world, according to a recent statement, is near Cheyenne, Wy. T. The horses number 5,000, and require 100 miles of fencing to keep them within bounds on 120,000 acres.

Michigan is to have a permanent location for the state fair.

It is predicted that Manitoba may come one of the great mutton and wool raising centers of the earth.

It has been estimated that 40,000,000 to 50,000,000 pounds of maple sugar or its equivalent in syrup, is made in the United States each year.

Reports from Texas are to the effect that crop prospects are exceptionally good throughout the state.

Indications continue to point to a large peach crop. According to Bradstreet’s, the abandonment of silk culture in California is foreshadowed by the action of the governor of that state in vetoing an appropriation of $10,000 made by the legislature to carry on experiments. The reason given is that California cannot compete with China of Japan in the industry. – The Weekly Press, Adrian, MI., June 7, 1889

FOR OUR YOUNG READERS

YOUNG DIDDENTHYNK.

When danger lured he was always there; His prowess and zeal were restricted; Yet he still escaped, by the breadth of a hair, The violent death so oft predicted. His heart was kind; he could ne’er refuse To promise anew on every morning; And “I didn’t think” was his one excuse In the face of every dreadful warning. But once when his mother’s nerves he’d tried By strange and perilous situations, And teased his sister until she cried, He was sent to bed on prisoner’s rations. He had bread to eat and water to drink, But he turned away for he couldn’t bear ‘em; And he dreamed that his name was Diddenthynk, And he’d come to the Castle of Harum Scarum. Topsy Turvey stood at the gate, A madcap maiden who called him cousin; She showed him the castle, weird and great, And wonderful things by the dozen, dozen. There were creaking floors and crazy stairs, And balconies high and unprotected, Murky mazes and secret snares, Covered with dust and long neglected. But in the chamber that pleased him best, Pistols and bombs were the chief attraction; And a rusty rifle stood with the rest, Ominous, grim and ready for action. “O, give it to me,” cried Diddenthynk; “It’s the jolliest thing to raise a racket; I’ll pull the trigger quick as a wink!”

But Topsy Turvey had clutched his jacket. “Let it alone, I say,” she cried, While her breath came quick, and her heart beat double; “There are plenty of guns and things beside, But that one is sure to make us trouble. These loaded pistols are only fun; We’llplay with them if you like; we’ll share ‘em; But that is the terrible Empty Gun- The deadliest weapon in Harum Scarum!” The Diddenthynk cried out in a huff, “Why, what’s the harm if it isn’t loaded!” And he grasped the gun when, sure enough, At the merest touch the thing exploded! He fell to the floor with a fearful cry; The air was filled with the smell of powder; The neighbors hastened to see him die, But he only yelled and screamed the louder. Baffled and dumb stood very one; They raised their hands and their eyes grew bigger; Never before had the Empty Gun Failed to finish the fool at the trigger. There was just one thing they could do, to be sure, In this very embarrassing situation; So the popular Doctor Killorkure Was summoned to make an examination. The Doctor came, and solemly said; “The danger can not be overstated; You seem the trouble’s all in his head, And I fear it will have to be amputated. But then, as he doesn’t think, perhaps He will hardly miss what he seldom uses, And ‘twill save the bill for hats and caps, And an endless number of bumps and bruises.” Then up rose each particular hair To convince the boy that he couldn’t spare ‘em, And he leaped with a gasp from the surgeon’s chair, And out of the Castle of Harum Scarum. He landed, of course, in his own small bed. Weak and breathless and almost blinded; And since that day I have heard it said, He is quite discreet and serious-minded, -Eusora S. Bumstead, in Youth’s Companion.

A DAY OF LIBERTY

Why need Concluded That It Isn’t Best for Children to Have Their Own Way.

Ned Townsend was a little boy who was particularly fond of having his own way. His mother’s commands he always received with such a sullen look that he made her feel very sad. One morning he had been left to button his shoes, and he was pouting over them as usual when Mrs. Townsend returned to dress him for school. Taking the button-hook from his hand, she said, pleasantly: “There has been a new law passed, my boy. Children are to have their own way for a whole day; no one is to interfere with them, and when

the time is up they will know whether it is better to do as their parents say, or go according to their own wishes.” “Hurrah!” cried Ned; “won’t I have a good time! Shall I go to school today? Yes; I’ll lose all the fun with the boys if I don’t. Besides, I won’t have to mind the teacher when I get there. How fine!” So, without another though for his unbuttoned shoes, he threw on his hat and overcoat and started. The boys were having rare fun when he reached the playground, and he joined them heartily. Soon the bell rang for them to go into school, but they went on playing just the same. They all understood that they were having there own way now, and they meant to play as long as they wished. However, they at last grew tired of this sport, and concluded to go inside and search for different fun. The teacher invited them to take seats, but they scorned the invitation. They laughed, and played and talked, and ran around just as if they were outside. “How grand it is not to have mind!” thought Ned. But at that moment a rough little boy ran past Ned’s desk, and knocked over the basket containing his lunch. Of course it fell on the dirty floor, and was spoiled. “I wish he had been made to mind,” said Ned to himself. But he tried to look happy, and to join in the general fun. Somehow, toward noon the privilege grew less and less satisfactory to the scholars, and without any apparent reason they began to feel cross. After that they took to quarreling, and actually ended in fighting. The poor teacher looked very sorrowful, but she had no power to stop them that day. Lunch settled them for awhile, but when they had taken their last bite they became more boisterous than before. In the meantime Ned had grown very hungry, and his feet were wet and cold. His head was aching, and the noise of the other children made it worse. He sat down and wished the teacher could get them quiet; but instead, the usually pleasant room was beginning to somewhat resemble a miniature battlefield. Ned longed to get out into the still air, “But what hinders me?” he suddenly thought. And. leaving his seat, he hurried out of the noisy room. Then his feet grew colder and wetter than ever. His throat began to feel sore, too, and he came to the wise conclusion that he had better go directly home to his kind mother. It was a very tired, very cold and very sick little boy that crept into Mrs. Townsend’s house that afternoon. When he saw his mother he cried out in a hoarse voice: “O mamma! I don’t want boys to have their own way any more.” “You are sick, my son,” was all she replied. And, taking him in her arms, she laid him in his bed. Then the little fellow had a peculiar feeling all through his body, and he believed he was dying. “Mamma,” cried, in alarm, “don’t let me die and I’ll always mind what you say!” After that the feeling passed away, and he saw that his mother was smiling. “Why, Ned, you must have been dreaming!” she said. And Ned looked down on his nightclothes, and realized that all his trouble had come to him in a dream. “At any rate,” he said to himself, with a sigh of relief, it isn’t best for children to have their own way, anyhow.” –S. Jennie Smith, in Christian Inquirer

SAVED THE CITY. The True Story of a Brave Little Dutch Boy.

The country if Holland in Europe is almost surrounded by the sea. To be sure there is nothing strange in that, for all islands are entirely surrounded by the sea. But Holland is a low country, and if the people had not built high banks to keep the water off, whenever there was a storm, or a very high tide, it would wash right over the whole land, and sweep away all the houses and drown the people. The Holland folks built the back many years ago. They are called dykes. They are not only high, but so thick through there is room for a broad street on top. Trees are planted along these streets, and it is a pleasant and airy place to walk. Men are chosen whose business it is to watch these dykes and see that the water, which is always trying to break Through, never does. It is necessary to be very watchful, for if there comes a break ever so small, it will grow bigger and bigger, and it would take but a few hours to bring on a dreadful flood. And even the smallest Dutch child knows the danger of being careless about the dykes. One evening a little boy in the city of Haarlem was on his way home. He walked fast, as it was getting late. It was a quiet part of the city, and there was no one but himself on the street. Every thing was quiet, so quiet that presently he heard a soft gurgling sound like that of running water. Ah, Hans knew in a moment what that meant! It meant that somewhere the sea had made a little road through the dyke. He stopped and looked carefully and eagerly, and very soon he found it- a tiny stream, that rippled and ran as though it meant not the least bit of harm to any body, or to any thing. But Hans knew better than that, and the first thing he did was to look about for something to stop it. He could find nothing. What should he do? Should he run into the city and call a watchman? but before he could get one, the little stream might become a great river. He looked up and down the empty street, “Well, there’s one thing I can do,” said Hans to himself, and he went up to the great dyke, and put one of his fingers into the hole. It just filled it! “Isn’t that lucky?” thought Hans. “And now I’ll stay here till somebody comes.” And he did. The twilight passed and the night came on; the stars shone out one after another; by and by, the moon came up in the east; very slowly the hours went by; it seemed to little Hans that never had there been so long a night; once he saw a man walking along on the dyke, but too far for his voice to reach him. He grew tired and cold, but he did not give up. He thought of the stories he had heard of the damage done by the floods in times past, when the dykes had given way. He thought of the little brothers and sisters at home, and of other happy homes that might be swept away should he leave his post. And so be bravely staid by, though it seemed to him sometimes that he should drop down, he was so tired. Every once in awhile he would call out, and early in the morning a watchman heard him and hastened to the spot. And it was not long, you may be sure, before others came, and the little break was stopped, and Hans was carried to his home. The Dutch are a brave people, and have fought many battles in the past to save their country from its enemies. But among them there was never a braver

3 hero than this little boy, who, through the long hours of that lonely night, saved the great city from the sea. –Pamela McArthur Cole, in Our Little Men and Women. – Three Rivers Tribune, Three River, MI., June 7, 1889

THE

Sea Rover’s Protege;

Or,

THE MYSTERIOUS CRUISER.

A Romance of the High Seas in

Troublous Tunes.

BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, AUTHOR or “THE SEA RECREANT,” “THE

NEW MONTE CRISTO,” “THE LAST OF THE PIRATES,” “MERLE, THE MUTINEER,” ETC.,

ETC.

CHAPTER VIII.

ACCURSED AMONG MEN.

“Elsie, why have you sought me here?” and Royal spoke kindly, as he turned and behold the woman before him, her snow-white hair looking like threads of silver in the moonlight.

Struck by his kind tone the woman paused, for it was not often that words of kindness passed between these two. Indeed, for years the youth had seldom spoken to her.

“I came to talk with you, chief. To-morrow I must leave the cottage, you say, and go to the house in the hills, where Royal first had his home, and where he was wont to come to see me whenever he was at the island. But, that was when I was not what I am now; it was when I was beautiful—years ago, years ago.”

“It is best that you should live there, Elsie. The house is a pleasant one, and you shall have about you every comfort, and servants to wait on you. Besides, it is only a mile from the hamlet.”

“Yes—there I will go, for you seem not inclined to have me near you. Perhaps, now that you are chief, you will wish to bring home with you from the seas, some fair mistress—one whom you would drag down to perdition, as I was dragged down by your predecessor.”

“Elsie, well do you know that you wrong me. Except in battle I have never wronged my fellow-man; I have never shown aught but kindness to the unfortunate women whom we have captured. The chief has told you this.”

“Yes-«he told me you made a poor pirate, that you carried your heart in your hand; but what are you to do now?”

“Elsie, I have determined to lead a new life. Hold! listen to me! You know that England and America will go to war soon. In fact, hostilities have already commenced. I have determined to seek an honorable name in the service of the United States.”

“Ha, ha, ha! and leave me to become. Queen of the buccaneers?”

“Oh, no; a man who commands a horde of buccaneers must be a very devil—a woman would be worse. If I am not complimentary, blame yourself for it. The men will side with me, and—”

“Will you cruise against the English?”

“Yes—my sympathies are with the Americans, and I believe I am an American by birth; but of that my chief never told me- he was strangely reticent about my early life.”

“Boy, you are a fool!"

“Thank you, Elsie!”

“I repeat it, you are a fool! Here, at an age hardly beyond your teens, you find yourself with a name and flag that has terrified the world, and now you wish to cast aside your brilliant chances to win fame and wealth, and turn honest.”

“I have wealth, if I desire to touch treasure that is tainted with blood; fame I intend to win under an honest flag.”

“Bah! what right have you to talk of honesty?”

“It is never too late to mend. Elsie. As long as the chief lived, I was subservient to his wishes, for he took care of me almost from infancy, brought me up to know right from wrong. Even though he led me to do the latter, he taught me as thoroughly as would a tutor, and all that I know, all that I am, I owe to him.”

“Yes, you are a pirate’s protegé,” sneered the woman.

But the young chief seemed determined not to lose temper, and replied, quietly:

“Yes, I am a pirate’s protegé; Elisie, I will be no longer a willing sea rover.”

“Why do you wish to turn honest—you, who are disgraced of mankind?” and the woman’s eyes flashed viciously.

“Because I am tired of leading the life I have—sick of outlawry and ill doing.”

“That is,” in bitter sarcasm, “you have cut throats in the past, under a black flag; you propose to cut throats in the future under a flag of another color? Ha, ha. ha! One would think you had been taught Bible lessons by a loving mother!”

“Elsie, beware! my mother’s name is sacred. I do not know her; in dreams only can I recall her; yet I would not have your lips pollute her name.”

The woman seemed almost wild with suppressed emotion, and her face turned the hue of death; and with a hard-drawn breath she said, in a voice deep and cruel:

“You talk of honor, Royal, my brave young buccaneer chief! You hold with respect the name of your mother! Boy, your mother was a curse to you I”

For a moment the chief seemed awe-struck by her words and manner; then his face became livid; the blue veins stood out on his forehead, and his eyes fairly burned with brightness.

Like a tiger about to spring, he stood, and the woman, seeing her danger, put her hand in her sash.

But she was not quick enough, for, with a cry of rage, Royal sprung forward, one hand of iron upon her throat, the other grasping the hand that would have clutched the pistol.

A shriek of pain and terror escaped from the livid lips of the woman.

“Accursed hag!” cried the infuriated young chief; “I will hurl you from this cliff for thus insulting my mother’s memory!”

Raising her in his powerful arms he seemed for an instant about to carry out his terrible threat; but his madness left him and he placed her once more on her feet and shoved her rudely from him.

“You are a woman! Accursed as you are, you are of the same sex of her that gave me birth.”

For an instant the woman stood in silence, hatred and fear struggling for the mastery; then she spoke again:

“Boy, you came near doing a deed that has no parallel. Listen! You have cursed me, and, bitterly as you may regret

it, I can tell you a terrible truth: I am your mother!”

Like one pierced to the heart, Royal staggered back until his very steps were on the edge of the cliff. There be halted, and his burning gaze was turned upon her.

For some moments he stood thus, but at length he said, as though thinking aloud:

“She lies in her false throat! She whom I see in my dreams was young and beautiful; this is a bag of Inferno!”

“Boy, once I was beautiful, and my beauty made me what I am—a bag of Inferno; but I tell you the truth: You are my child! Yes, I hated you because you disgraced me in the eyes of the world—hold! hear me—when you were born. I was not an acknowledged wife.”

“Oh, God! oh, God! can this be?”

“It is true. boy! I tried hard to love you, and cared for you when you were a wee prattler; but upon the high seas I met him who had lured me from heaven—met, your father, for I was flying from my native land to find a home in one where I could at least shun those who despised me. Yes, met him, your father, Royal, the Buccaneer.”

“I am listening, woman.”

“Woman? Did I not tell you that I was your mother? The name seemed a pleasant sound upon your lips awhile since—call me mother now! No, you will not? Well, I will tell you more of your life, and then hear you talk of honor.

“To this place Royal, the Buccaneer, brought the mother of his handsome boy, and here she has lived the years that have gone by since that meeting on the high seas. The other, his gallant boy, he took with him in his schooner, and taught him the trade of piracy! You were raised by Royal not to know that he was your father, and I your mother.

“Now, Octave Royal, will you talk of honor Will you—”

But Royal heard no more; he bounded away from the cliff, the ring of the woman’s demoniac laugh still echoing in his ears.

CHAPTER IX.

TAKEN BY SURPRISE.

IN the fortress-sheltered harbor of Vera Cruz, and lying close inshore, was anchored a schooner of a build decidedly American, and which looked out of place there in the midst of vessels so widely differing from her in model.

At her peak fluttered the green, red and white flag of Mexico, and upon her decks were a score of men wearing the uniform of that country.

The schooner was about three hundred tons’ burden, and painted black, excepting three rib bons of green, red and white that encircled her hull, which was long, low, and narrow, with sharp bows and sufficient roundness in the head to combine grace, beauty and swiftness.

Her masts were exceedingly long and slender, and raked saucily; her spars were light, trim and of great length, while like her masts they shone as if varnished.

The sails were white as snow and 'neatly furled, while her fore-top gallant and royal yards—with which she was also rigged—were squared with unusual precision and care.

Upon her deck was an extremely heavy armament for so light a craft—three

glistening guns to a broadside, and three pivot thirty-twos amidship, and fore and aft, giving her a battery of nine pieces, and with those mounted on pivots, six guns to a broadside.

Around her masts were racks filled with boarding pikes and cutlasses, and upon the decks not a rope was out of place, not a coil of rigging which was not carefully suspended from its pin.

It was about six in the afternoon: the sun was yet an hour high, and those on her deck, an officer and a. score of seamen, were watching the coming into the harbor of a small, lateen-rigged craft, driven before the fitful sea-breeze that was just springing up.

With a speed hardly believed possible in such a light breeze the carera came along, and running close under the stern of the schooner came gracefully up into the wind and let drop her anchor.

“Well done for a Mexican, for such the fellow at her helm seems to be,” exclaimed the only officer upon the schooner’s deck, and be bent his gaze more searchingly upon the carera, which was now lying quietly at her anchor, the dozen men who comprised her crew, skillfully putting all in ship-shape, as though for a lengthy stay in port.

“Ahoy, the schooner!” suddenly rung out in the clear voice of the carera’s helmsman.

“Ho, the carera!” called out the officer replying, as he had been addressed, in Spanish.

“I would see the commandant of the schooner, senor; can I come on board?”

“What the deuce does he want, I wonder?” muttered the officer, and then he called back:

“Ay, ay!”

A few moments after a small boat ranged alongside. In it were three persons— the helmsman and three oarsmen.

As the former stepped upon the deck of the schooner he beheld before him a man of striking appearance, for his form was elegant, his face frank, fearless and intelligent.

“You would see me, senor,” he said politely, gazing also with admiration upon his visitor.

“Yes, senior, I learned at Tampico that the Mexican Government had built, in the United States, a schooner to protect its coast from the buccaneers, and I desire service upon her if this is the vessel.”

“You can doubtless be accommodated, for the Mexicans are enlisting a crew now. As for myself, I merely brought her from Boston to Vera Cruz for them, for I am not a Mexican, but an officer of the United States Navy.”

“You found here swift craft. Judging from her build, and doubtless had a pleasant run out?” and the man looked admiringly over the beautiful vessel.

“I never saw a better sea—goer, and as for speed, she outran the famous schooner of Royal, the Buccaneer, who chased us, hull down for half day. I played with the pirate when I found out the speed of the craft,” and the American seemed pleased at the remembrance.

“Where shall I go to ship on the schooner, senior?”

“To the Government office in the city. I hope the crew will soon be made up, for I was expect my own vessel in port every

4

day, for I was to join her here. My country is now at war with England, and fighting the British will be more to my taste at this time. You see, I wear but one shoulder-strap, and have another yet to win,” and the gay young American laughed lightly, as though he anticipated rare sport in the was with Great Britain.

The commander of the carera then thanked the officer, and went over the side into his own boat.

A half-hour more and he was at the Government office in Vera Cruz, when he made his desire known to the proper authorities, and came under the keen and suspicious eye of a Mexican official.

But his story was soon told. He was a sailor, he said, and had, with a dozen companions, sailed down to Vera Cruz to ship on board the a schooner, from a love of adventure. They had chartered a carera to run them down from Tampico, and were ready for duty at any time.

The Mexican Government was sending only picked men on the schooner, for her work was to be one of great danger; the young volunteer would do. and if he could vouch for his companions they would also answer.

Thus it was settled, and the crew of the schooner was nearly made up.

The following morning Lieutenant Rupert Maurice, the young and handsome naval officer, who had been ordered by his Government to carry the schooner to Vera Cruz, was relieved of his command by a dark-faced Mexican lieutenant, who came aboard with two midshipmen and forty men.

As the lieutenant went over the side into his waiting boat, he beheld coming up the harbor his own vessel—an American brig-of—war, which, soon after, came to anchor a few cables’ length distant from the schooner.

All through the remainder of the day the Mexican lieutenant gave himself no rest. He was drilling his new crew at the guns, and working them nearly to death, for he was anxious to invite the officers of the American brig to dine with him the following evening, and hence was determined to have all shipshape, and the crew disciplined.

When night came, at last, he rested from his labors and robed himself in his best for a visit to the American brig. for be had promised Lieutenant Maurice that he would call in the evening.

As he had found the young volunteer from the carera such a useful hand, he left him in command, for his Mexican brother officers had not yet come on board; they Would flirt with their dark-eyed lady-loves until the last moment before ordered to sail on their perilous work.

As the boat rowed away, with a crew of eight oarsmen, a coxswain, and the pompous officer in the stern-sheets, its course was closely watched by him who had enlisted to serve against the buccaneers.

As the boat disappeared in the gloom of night, he passed along the deck and called to a number of seamen to follow him into the hold, as the lieutenant had left orders regarding the moving of the ballast, the schooner listing too much to starboard.

A few moments after he came on deck, alone, and glancing out toward the carera. a moment, he took a lantern from the deck and raised it three times above his head.

Ten minutes of silence followed; then the boats came alongside, loaded gunwale deep with dark forms, which, the next moment, stood on the deck of the schooner, where half a score of men were busy securing the batches of the steerage and cabin companionway.

“Now Benedict, return to the carera and slip your cable: there is a mist coming in from the sea that will greatly aid us. Steer up the coast and there I will join you within the hour. If chased, head for the island—I will stand out to sea, and if discovered draw the pursuit after me. Do you understand?”

“Ay, ay, Sir," replied the man addressed as Benedict, and he sprung back into one of the two boats, which was at once rowed back to the carera, with the other in tow.

Swiftly from the sea came in a light mist which soon made the harbor appear as though filled with specter vessels, for they looked weird-like in the shadowy gloom.

But the keen eye of the man, who was playing some bold game, saw the carera slowly glide away from her anchorage and disappear.

Then he turned quickly, and ordered in low, stern tones:

“Up with that anchor, men, and work in silence, for your necks are in a noose.”

A few moments more and the beautiful vessel was free from her moorings, drifting on the tide.

“Let fall everything that will draw now, and sheet home,” was the next low order, and in five minutes more the schooner swung round to the breeze, just as the boat returned on board, and the pompous lieutenant sprung with surprise on deck.

“Maledicto! what means this?” he cried, in a rage. jerking his sword from its scabbard.

“It means that you are my prisoner, senior,” replied the man in whose charge he had left the schooner.

“Take that!” and the Mexican made a sweeping blow at the head of the man, who caught it skillfully on his own blade, and with a skillful turn of the wrist tore the weapon from the Mexican’s hand.

“Senor, I would not kill you willingly—do not drive me to it. You are my prisoner, and if you resist, or cry out, I will cut you down. Men, come forward here, and no harm shall befall you,” and he turned to the boat’s crew, for they had followed their leader on deck.

Silently the Mexican and his men stood. They knew it was death to resist, and a moment after they were securely ironed and gagged.

Taking the wheel of the schooner, the captor of the beautiful vessel turned her sharp prow toward the open sea.

Like a shadow vessel she sped along, and after an hour’s run sighted the carera only a short distance ahead.

Running up into the wind, the carera lay to, and a short while after the schooner was alongside of her.

“Now, Senor Mexican, you and your men are at liberty to return to Vera Cruz; and in place of the vessel I have taken from you, I leave your Government the graceful little craft alongside; and having been a pirate herself, she will be well adapted for the work you had in view for this schooner.”

“In the name of the Virgin! who are you?” groaned the unhappy Mexican.

“I am Royal, the Buccaneer— so tell your Government.”

The Mexican started visibly; but he made no reply. He silently went on board the carera, followed by those of his crew who desired to accompany him, for a wild set most of them, they were only too willing to ship under the black flag of the buccaneer when Royal gave them a chance to do so.

A few moments more and the two vessels swung clear of each other—the carera with its cursing crew of Mexicans heading back toward Vera Cruz, the schooner, with Royal. the buccaneer chief, pointing her sharp prow toward deep water.

CHAPTER X.

THE RETURN.

THE island home of the buccaneers was bathed. in a flood of silvery light, for the moon rode high in the heavens, and the skies were blue and cloudless.

One month had passed away since the thrilling scene upon the cliff between the young chief, and she who called herself his mother, and from that time no word had come from Royal, who had fled from the spot after the interview, feeling accursed before God and man.

That very night be had gone aboard the carera, at anchor in the harbor, called his crew to their posts and spread his sail, leaving the island under command of one whom he felt he could well trust—an old English seaman who had long sailed with him.

As the bright moonlight fell upon the cliff that night, one month after his departure, it lighted up the form of a woman— she who had driven Royal, the chief, to fly from her in horror.

Like a statue she stood, gazing upon the wild scene of wave and rock, while her face wore an anxious air, and her hands fingered nervously at her dazzling necklace of diamonds, which shot forth a thousand fiery glances in the moonlight.

No life was visible anywhere else, to animate the wild score of rock and ocean-only an ironbound coast that dashed back with ominous roar the foam-covered waves that surged against it.

No sail dotted the moonlit waters, and the buccaneer hamlet lay in silent repose, no light twinkling from a single cabin window.

Suddenly the woman leant forward with eager, straining gaze, and her wild eyes were fixed far off upon the waters.

“It is a sail—no, it is a bird. Bah! a bird would not hover over the sea at night—no, it is a sail,” and she bent forward still further, her whole manner that of nervous expectation.

“Ha, ha, ha! I feared I had driven him to madness and to death; but no, he loves life too well—lie will return—ay, he comes now. But no—that is not his vessel. Ha! I forget, he went to capture a fair bark with which to skim over the glad waters, and redden their crests with human blood.”

For a long time the woman stood in silence, her eyes fixed upon the approaching sail, which could he made out as a large schooner, under a cloud of canvas, heading directly for the cliff, and coming swiftly on, driven by a ten-knot breeze.

“She comes boldly on—ha! she turns the outer reef—there is one aboard who knows this channel—it is the boy. But

no—she may have rounded that reef by accident. I will wait and see.”

Eagerly she looked until the schooner drew near inshore, and then she said, quickly:

“If he puts his helm bards-starboard now, it is the boy; if not, yonder pretty craft will dash to death in ten minutes. Ha, ha, ha! it is the boy. I will await him here, for he will come: I know he will come to receive his mother‘s greeting. Yes. they will tell him I await him here, and have waited night after night since he left. Come, come, my brave boy, your mother longs to clasp your blood—stained hands and greet you home.”

Like an enraged tigress the. woman paced to and fro, keeping her eye upon the schooner, which most skillfully followed every turn in the tortuous channel, until she glided into the little harbor, came up with her sharp bows to the wind, and dropped anchor.

A moment after a boat left her side, and in half an hour a tall form came from the shadow of the trees, and approached the cliff with quick, stern tread.

It was Royal, the young buccaneer chief, and his face was cold and stem.

“Ha, ha, my boy, you have come for your mother to welcome you home,” said the woman, in a harsh, sneering voice.

“I have returned, woman, and I was told I would find you here. One month ago you drove me from you in despair, for you told me that which crushed my heart, dashed to the earth every noble aspiration. I have returned successful, for I cut out from under the guns of Vera Cruz, yonder schooner. You saw her come in, and know how she sails. With that vessel I longed to serve the Americans, in their struggle with England: but if you speak the truth, and I am accursed, as you say, then I turn my back upon all truth and nobleness, and fight yonder craft under the black flag—my inheritance from him who you say is my father. New, woman, as you hope for the safety of your soul hereafter—by all the honor you once had in your heart, tell me, did you speak the truth—

“Am I your son—was Royal my father?”

Almost imploringly the chief held forth his arms, and pleadingly his eyes turned upon the woman, while his lips quivered With emotion.

“I spoke the truth—you are my son, and Royal was your father. Ay, more still, you were born in sin—a curse rests upon you.”

The woman spoke in terribly earnest tones, and every word cut deep into the heart of him who heard.

“It is enough—I ask no more- from this night you will find your son worthy of his dishonored mother—his crime-stained father.”

Wheeling quickly on his heel, the chief strode rapidly away, unmindful of the call of the woman for his return.

Taking the path leading to his own quarters, he entered his room, and was met there by the seaman whom he had left in command of the island and who, as a British subject, rejoiced under the name of English.

“Captain, I am glad to see you home, sir— you slipped in unawares.”

“Yes; I ran right in to the anchorage, and I have captured the finest craft afloat.

5 But tell me, English, has the woman, Elsie, removed to the cabin in the hills?”

“Yes, sir; but she has spent most of her time on the cliff, watching for your return.”

“And did you get the guns off of the wrecked Bride?”

“Yes, sir; and all that was of value from the cabin; she has gone to pieces now, poor craft, but I had good weather for the job, and we lost but little.”

“You deserve credit. Now I am going to again leave you in command of the island, and I wish you to fortify the commanding points of the channel, for I may be run home some day, as I intend to make the ocean a hot place for every flag that floats.”

And the chief spoke with a sternness that surprised his companion.

“When do you intend to sail, captain?”

“In a day or two. I intend to put my vessel in perfect trim with what I take from the Bride of the Sea, and I wish a crew of a hundred men.”

“That will leave me about half a hundred all told.”

“Yes, they are enough. Now let us go down to the beach, for I wish to begin work at once—- my brain and heart are both on fire, and if I do not have excitement I will go mad.”

The last sentence he muttered to himself, and leading the way he started for the beach, where a busy scene was being enacted, for the whole island population had turned out to welcome the new schooner.

CHAPTER XI.

THE THREE VESSELS.

OVER the rough Waters of the Gulf, and urged on by a twelve-knot breeze, three vessels were staggering onward, their masts curving beneath the pressure of canvas that covered them.

The leading vessel was a large merchant-ship, flying the Stars and Stripes at her peak, and evidently straining under the tremendous clouds of white duck that hovered above her decks.

That she was flying from danger, the manner in which she was forced through the waters proved, while upon her deck there was anxiety upon every face—from the captain, a bluff, determined-looking man of forty, to the cabin-boy, a lad of twelve.

“Oh, Captain Pinkney—the cruiser is still gaining upon us,” cried a sweet voice, and a slender, gracefully-formed maiden of seventeen came from the cabin, and looked anxiously astern, while her beautiful face turned a shade paler.

“Yes, Miss Maurice, the Englishman seems too much for us—-although, as you will see, if you cast your eyes aloft, I have got the Queen dressed in every stitch she will bear in this breeze; but how is your father, Miss Maurice?”

“He is no better—nay, he is worried so, that I fear he may have a relapse, and he was just getting strong again, after his severe attack of illness.

“But is it not strange, captain, that the cruiser has not fired upon us?”

“He certainly is in range, miss—ha! down into the cabin, miss, for yonder comes a shot,” and the captain seized the maiden hastily by the arm, and dragged her into the cabin, just as an iron shot whistled over the ship’s deck.

A moment after he was again standing by the helmsman, narrowly watching the cruiser through his glass, as she came rushing on, her lee scuppers under water, and a great wall of foam about her bows.

“If yonder fellow astern of the cruiser is an American, I fear John Bull is going to get two prizes, for he comes boldly on,” he said to his mate who approached.

“He has gained considerable on the Englishman—he certainly is not going to attack him, for he is not half the size of the cruiser.”

“He may be another John Bull, sir,” said the quartermaster politely.

“True, but he looks American; there is no flag at his peak that I can tell by—by Jove! how he comes on!”

The cruiser referred to was a heavily—armed brig, with square yards painted jet—black, and her figure-head, a gilt St. George’s cross on a black shield, was plainly visible whenever her bows raised high on a wave.

She was pierced for sixteen guns, and carried a crew of a hundred and fifty men, a large number for a vessel of her armament.

Upon her decks everything was in perfect order—her crew at the guns, and her commander and his officers upon the quarter-deck, alternately glancing at the merchant – craft ahead, and the vessel rushing on astern, with a speed that was hardly credible.

“By Heaven! the cruiser is going to fire again—it is useless to resist, and I will lay to before I get my sticks knocked out,” and the captain of the American merchant-vessel issued his orders to lay to, just as another iron shot buried itself in the ocean, not a fathom from the vessel‘s stern.

The next moment the American was rocking upon the waters, and the cruiser came bowling along with the speed of a race-horse.

As the vessel ceased her flight, there came on deck the same maiden who had been ushered so unceremoniously back into the cabin, by the kind-hearted captain.

Leaning heavily upon the arm of a negro servant, there followed a gentleman of perhaps fifty, his face worn by sickness, and his form emaciated.

“Well, Colonel Maurice, you have come on deck to see me surrender,” said Captain Pinkney, sadly.

“Yes, Pinkney; it was death to me to remain below. I wished to see for myself what was going on,” replied the gentleman, taking an easy—chair brought him by the maiden.

“It is a sad sight, colonel; but I could not do otherwise, as the cruiser would have knocked me out of the water.”

“You did right, captain; but what craft is that astern of the cruiser?”

“An elegant little schooner that has been coming on after the Englishman—perhaps also under the flag of— No, by Heaven! see there!”

As Captain Pinkney spoke a puff of smoke came from the schooner’s bows, a deep boom followed, and a shot went tearing through the cruiser’s rigging.

Instantly all was excitement on board the Englishman. They had found out that the craft dogging their wake was an enemy—a small but plucky foe.

“It is an American cutter, or privateer, and a daring one, too, to attack yonder John Bull,” said Colonel Maurice, while every eye on the merchantman was turned upon the two vessels, now known to be hostiles.

“Ha! the Englishman is going to wear ship and attack him. It is madness for that schooner to offer battle. See, he is going about, and will run for it.” ‘

“By the Lord Harry, no, captain—behold? exclaimed Colonel Maurice, and his pale face flushed with excitement.

As he spoke the schooner brought her broadside to bear upon the cruiser, and a burst of flame and smoke followed, while a hurricane of iron rushed upon the Englishman, which was just going in stays, preparing to put back and fight his daring little foe.

The result of the schooner’s broadside was at once evident to the watching eyes on the merchantman—the rigging was cut in a hundred places, the sails were pierced, and it was evident that sad havoc had been made among the crew, while, missing stays, she rolled fearfully in the waters.

But the schooner was not idle, for its other broadside was delivered with telling effect, and she showed an inclination to come to closer quarters.

“By the Lord Harry! he will sink the Englishman in half an hour at that rate,” exclaimed Colonel Maurice with enthusiasm.

“Colonel, that craft is handled as wickedly as though the Devil was her commander,” said Captain Pinkney.

“She is handled beautifully, and her commander deserves a frigate—brave little American.”

“Ha! See, there flies her flag—a pirate, by Jupiter! ”

It was Captain Pinkney that spoke, and all eyes were turned upon the schooner, and a sight met their gaze that sent a thrill of horror through every heart. There, at her peak, waved the black flag of the buccaneer.

One look through his glass, and Captain Pinkney said, quietly:

“I said the Devil commanded her; it is Royal the Buccaneer.”

(To be continued.)

The Rival Detectives.

BY ARTHUR C. GRISSOM.

“I HAVE heard that you never forget a face, Marvel. Tell me if you have ever seen this one.”

A tall, dark gentleman of handsome figure and a. lady of rich, Southern cast of beauty, had just stepped from a large stone building recognizable as a City Hall, and stood at a corner of the pavement waiting the approach of a- cable car to carry them up-town.

The black, brilliant eyes of the gentleman turned in the direction the taper finger indicated, and, in an instant, they rested upon the face mentioned.

It was a face no one, seeing once, would forget; not that it was marred by traces of disease, or by a scar, or by any unnatural imperfection; but there was an undefinable something about it that impressed it unpleasantly upon the memory. No one could be satisfied with a cursory glance at it; it would command a second look and close scrutiny in any throng. The features, instead of being

composed of soft curves, as in the warm cheeks of the Southern beauty, were all angles, and this produced a hard expression. But description can go no further; like " Mr. Hyde,” he was a displeasing and extraordinary man, and yet no distinctively bad point could be specified.

The one addressed as Marvel had seen the face before; the lady was quick to recognize that. He was palpably startled. He watched the man of disagreeable visage intently as he crossed the street, and, with one sharp, venomous look toward them, entered the door from which they had just passed out.

“He is my enemy, and I fear he means me mischief,” said Marvel, to his companion. “I have not seen his face for cars, and yet I could never forget it or him. I will tell you about him later, Lilith. Here is our car.”

He assisted her aboard and took his seat beside her. A fine-looking couple they were, and loving, and yet none of the passengers suspected they were to be bride and groom. They had just sworn to their ages before a recorder and received a permission to marry under the laws of the State.

The wedding was a little romantic. Marvel North was a young detective whose home was in a Northern city, and Lilith Lane was a maiden Of excellent parentage from the cotton regions of Louisiana. The two lovers had met each other half-way in a beautiful city of the New West, and were this day to effect the happy consummation of their passionate regard.

Stepping from the car up—town, they entered a restaurant and took a retired table, where they were served with dinner. As they sat enjoying the repast. Marvel was reminded of his promise to tell of the man he had called his enemy, and he readily responded:

“Yes, I will tell you all I know of him, Lilith. His face, I see, has strangely interested you, and no wonder, for I believe that it is the mirror of a soul as black as a demon’s. His name is Barton Blood—ah! you have heard the game, I see l—and, like myself, he is a detective.

“A few years ago I was sent to the South to work on one of the most remarkable cases in the history of the times. It was the mystery, Lilith. concerning the death of your father, who was murdered while asleep and his room burglarized. It was while serving you at this time, my darling, that I first learned to love you.

“I found Barton Blood on the ground, actively engaged on the case, having been deputized by local authorities. You did not see him, perhaps, because of the illness caused by your grief. You heard of him, however.

“Blood at once constituted himself my rival, and, instead of aiding me to capture the murderer, he did all that he could in an underhanded way to throw me off the trail, and at the same time exerted wonderful energy in his own behalf to be the successful captor of the sensation-maker.

“One day I learned that a most important witness for the State was lying sick in a wild mining region of Arizona, and without an hour’s delay I started for the place for the purpose of getting his deposition. What was my surprise, when I entered the train that was to bear me westward, to see my rival, Barton Blood, and he informed me that he had been

6

detailed to accompany me—a lie, I then believed, and the belief was afterward confirmed by his chief.

“We arrived in the little camp late in the night, and I found it necessary to postpone my business until the following morning. When I awoke from my sleep it was nearly ten o’clock in the forenoon, so I knew that I had been drugged in some way. Together Blood and I went to the cabin of the witness—only to find him dead on the floor of the one room, with a ten-inch bowie—knife in his breast. ‘A suicide,’ Blood said.

“Lilith, I am satisfied that to the death of this witness the murderer of your father owes his freedom—his existence—to—day. His testimony would have been to the case what the sun is to morning. I believe, moreover, as much as though I had seen the crime, that another hand than his own took the life of that witness.

“The dead man was put into a box, and Blood and I brought the body with us on our return, and turned it over to relatives.

"When we made our reports Blood boldly insinuated that I had killed the witness in a fit of passion because his testimony had not amounted to anything, that—l was enraged because I had traveled so far to no purpose. He demanded that I be arrested, and that he be allowed to make an investigation. Although Blood was regarded as a first—rate detective, and was widely known for his shrewdness, he was known to be unprincipled and jealous, and his atrocious charge was not heeded. And when I requested that he be removed from the case, the desire was immediately complied with, and he was sent to a different field. But he swore that he would ‘bring me to justice.’ I continued to work on the case awhile, but, as you know, little came of it-——the guilty man had covered his tracks too well. Then I was called North and given another hunt, which proved more successful, and I have never seen Burton Blood since until this day. I heard in some forgotten way that he had left Louisiana for parts unknown—in fact, now I think of it—had left suddenly, immediately after being discharged from the Major Laue case. And that is all I know about him, Lilith. Let us forget his detestable face and take a drive over the city—what do you say, dearest?”

“Yes, of course,” smiled the loving woman, and they left the restaurant and were soon enjoying the beauties of the young metropolis behind a thoroughbred trotter.

“My best friend in town is Chief of Police Speers,” said Marvel, in the course of the afternoon, “ and l have made him promise to attend our wedding this evening—agree to be my best man, and show me how to behave myself, and if I don’t, arrest me,” and he laughed merrily. “If I land in a cell to-night our bridal trip Eastward will have to be postponed.”

At six o’clock that evening Marvel North and his bride entered a hack and were seated facing Chief Speers, who gave the driver the street address of a noted divine, and the carriage rolled away through the city, with none of the occupants aware that they were being shadowed by a second vehicle.

In the latter sat a man with a strangely evil face, and, as he kept his eye on the party ahead, he laughed harshly to himself, and stroked his chin in satisfaction.

“At the very moment of his greatest happiness will I bring him to the dust!” he chuckled. “And I will convict him, for did not three truthful miners agree to swear they saw him commit the crime? Ah! you shall have your revenge, Barton Blood!”

The carriage with the bridal-party drew up at the correct number, and very soon the three were in the presence of the divine who was to pronounce the solemn ceremony.

Marvel and Lilith were standing with joined hands before the venerable servant of God, in the very act of promising to cherish and hold each other dear, when the door was flung open and Barton Blood came into the room.

Striding forward to the side of North, be grasped his arm, exclaiming:

“I arrest you for the murder of Marvin Stone, in Arizona!”

His vicious eyes gleamed like the orbs of a demon, and his thin lips bore a wicked smile of triumph that it was maddening to behold.

North turned to him with a look so fierce it would have cowed a man with less nerve than Barton Blood. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by Chief Speers, who stepped suddenly forward with a revolver in his grasp.

Seizing Blood by the coat and facing him about, he looked him squarely in the face, and said, sternly:

“You are Barton Blood. You arrest North on this charge? Sir, l arrest you for the murder of Marvin Stone!”

The evil face blanched for an instant, and in the faces of the bride and groom and the clergyman were expressions of astonishment at the remarkable turn of affairs.

“By what evidence?” Blood managed to ask, his bravado returning.

“That you shall know later,” replied the chief. “Suffice it that it is complete and unimpeachable. Why, sir, l have been looking for your face for three years, and though I never saw you, I knew you almost instantly. Will the father proceed with the ceremony?”

The service was concluded and Marvel North and Lilith Lane pronounced man and wife.

Leaving the house, the chief entered Blood’s carriage, still holding Blood a prisoner, pausing only to inform North that he would see him later at his hotel. Then the two vehicles were driven back the way they had come.

When Chief Speers kept his appointment he explained to Marvel and his young wife as follows:

“The testimony against Blood is the result of a development of one of the most original theories of our day. You have not heard of it, Marvel! Physicians have sought to explode the theory, and partially succeeded, but in this case there is no dispute as to its efficacy. The body of Marvin Stone you brought from Arizona passed into the hands of an advocate of this great theory, and he effected the result which this evening led to the arrest of Barton Blood. The theory is that the image of the object last seen by a man dying suddenly, remains in the pupil of the eye in death. In the eyes of Marvin Stone was frozen the image of the fiendish face of Barton Blood! There was no mistaking it—the peculiar cast of features was plainly recognized by a number of

witnesses, who saw it magnified and photographed. The direct conclusion, of course, was that Blood was the murderer.

“Blood had gone when men went to apprehend him, and has never been recognized by officers until to-day. I have no idea where he has been. Most of the time in Arizona, I suspect. When it became known that he was the murderer of Stone his description and photograph were sent to the chiefs of police over the country, and the case was such a singular one, and the criminal’s individuality so marked, I took a most decided interest in it all. And when I faced him in the parlors of the clergyman this evening, I knew I had captured one of the greatest and shrewdest criminals of the United States.”

The bridal trip eastward was not postponed. That night Marvel North and Lilith his beautiful wife began their tour of love, doubly happy in the consciousness that they had witnessed a remarkable victory for law and right.

But, Barton Blood remained behind to lament the fate he knew would be his. Never would he have revenge on his successful rival, never again know a day of liberty, and he would go down to an ignominious death in atonement for his heinous sins.

In bringing the body of his unfortunate victim from far-off Arizona he had brought an unimpeachable witness against himself; he who, had he lived, would doubtless have said that Blood was the murderer of Major Lane, spoke against him even in death, louder if possible than if alive, and not only of one but of two crimes.

That Stone had been killed to prevent an incriminating statement against Blood regarding the death of Major Lane none doubted, and when the man who had disgraced the badge of the law received the punishment he so richly deserved, Lilith, the daughter, and an outraged community, felt that the midnight crime of the plantation had been avenged at last.

Cloaks & Dolmans!

At prices which will astonish the natives.

Furs, Hats and Caps, Chicago Made Boots and Shoes-Warranted not to Rip.

Groceries!! SUGARS, TEAS, COFFES, SPICES, RICE, DRIED

AND CANNED FRUIT, SALT, &c. Selected with particular care to quality, and sold at

smallest living profit.

100,000 lbs. Butter Wanted I pay the highest market price for Butter, Eggs, Potatoes, Flour, etc., and propose to sell the same to consumers without extra profit. If you want to save money. Call and buy of

VIRTUS LUND.

”HOW DO you know when a cyclone is coming?” asked a stranger of a Dakota farmer. ”Oh we get wind of them,” was the reply.

I don’t know whether I am fortunate or just lucky

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7

THE PUZZLER

No. 1. – A Charade.

Silence is golden, yet I am not gold. But rather a silvery hue have, I’m told; I live but a month, yet I rapidly grow. And reflect in a manner that often I throw Upon subjects beneath me a beautiful light, And am steady, although often out late at night. As of all the things said to me, that is the worst, You surely can guess what I mean by my first.

My second is used in all buildings, I ween, And likewise on steamboats, in action, I’m seen. The yachtsmen discourse of my breadth in a way That is apt to lead dwellers on land quite astray. And likewise am sought for inside of tall trees.

My whole is a something transcendently light; I hide from the sun to appear in the night, No chemist can weigh me, I scoff at his scales. Now all try and guess me, and notice who fails.

No. 2 – Historical Americans.

(a) A small inclosure for animals

(b) A king of England in whose reign the Bible was translated, and a capital city of the United States.

(c) The author of the Declaration of Independence and a strait of North America.

(d) A laborious occupation and a heavy weight.

(e) To the name of the king who died on Flodden Field add a kind of bonnet.

(f) What a toper said when a half glass was given him.

(g) The sage of Monticello.

(h) The Christian name of the author of the Marble Faun, and the imperial color of the ancient Mexicans.

– The Weekly Press, Adrian, MI., June 7, 1889

KIDS PROJECT!

How to Make Clouds Safety: Electricity is used in this experiment. Young children should be supervised and older children cautioned about the hazards of electricity. Flame is used in this project and adult supervision is required. Do not wear loose clothing. Tie hair back. When handling candles, wear protective gloves – hot wax can burn. Never leave a flame unattended. Extinguish flame properly. Protect surfaces beneath burning candles. Materials:

Glass jug with small mouth Match or candle Procedures:

1. Turn the jug upside down. Ask an adult for permission to light a match or candle. Carefully hold the jug opening over the flame of a match or candle for a few seconds. Be sure to put the match out before it burns your fingers or move the candle before the jug becomes too hot to hold.

2. Remove the flame, take a deep breath, and quickly place your mouth over the opening, making a tight seal.

3. Blow hard into the jug; be careful not to breath in. You want to compress the air inside as much as possible. Then abruptly remove your mouth and release the pressure.

Did you know?

That the tallest cloud, the giant cumulonimbus, can reach a height of 50,000 feet.

That fog is really a low cloud that forms when the air at or just above the earth’s surface cools. That early sailors used clouds to find land, because clouds often form above islands. Results:

Clouds form when warm air rises in the sky and then cools down enough for some of the water vapor in the air to condense into tiny drops of water. In the experiment, when you release the pressure, a cloud forms. As you compress the air in the jug, you also add moisture from your breath. When you suddenly release the pressure, the air in the jug expands and cools. The cooler air can’t hold as much moisture as the warm air. Therefore, some of the moisture condenses into tiny droplets and forms clouds. Further Studies:

Notice the clouds in your area. Why are some clouds shaped differently than others? What is the thin layer of clouds called that forms when a large mass of air rises slowly? What is the name of the thick, towering clouds that form when small masses of warm air rises quickly? Do cumulonimbus clouds usually bring rain?

www.AllThumbsGuide.com

RIDDLES

A. You are a cyclist in a cross-country

race. Just before crossing the finish line you overtake the person in second place! What place did you finish in? B. I do not have any special powers,

but I can predict the score of any football game before it begins. How can I do this? C. You are on the bank of a river. You

have to get a fox, a hen, and corn to the other side of the river. If left alone, the fox will eat the hen, and the hen will eat the corn if left alone. The boat is only big enough to take you and one other three to the other side. How do you get all 3 across intact?

When Fogg was asked regarding the latest additions to the English language, he said he would ask his wife. She always had the last word.

A man suffering from debility and loss of appetite took two bottles of Hood’s Sarsaparilla, gained

ten pounds and got well.

”Even if you’re on the right track, you’ll get run over if

you just sit there.”

-WILL ROGERS

”Only those who will risk going too far can

possibly find out how far one can go” – T.S. Elot

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8

”BELIEVE YOU CAN AND YOU’RE

HALFWAY THERE.”

-THEODORE ROOSEVELT

“The simple truth is that every veteran has his or her own unique story, and there's no single narrative about the issue of veterans finding civilian employment. And no single solution.”

-Cathy Engelbert CEO of Deloitte

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