Fame And Fortune Weekly (no. 421) (1913 10 24)
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YL \ ae tM VISION SSE CN! Wil “Don’t, uncle; please don’t burn my story,” begged Arthur. “Stand back! I won’t have no writin’ business in my family,” answered Mr. Claypole, harshly, dropping the sheets in the flames. “That’s right, Caleb. Sich nonsense is a waste of time,” said his wife. oe
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ame and Fortune Weekly _STORIES OF BOYS WHO MAKE MONEY 2 Issued Weekly—By Subscription $2.50 per year. 7 ; Entered at the New York, N. Y., No. 421." NEW YORK, OCTOBER 24, 1913. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1918, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C., by Frank Tousey, Publisher, 168 West 23d Street, New York. Post Office as Second- Class Matter. Price 5 Cents. Fighting for Fame THE STRUGGLES OF A YOUNG AUTHOR - By A SELF-MADE MAN CHAPTER I. INTRODUCES THE HERO, “Seems to me you’ve taken to writin’ a good deal-of late, nephew,” said Caleb Claypole, a tall, raw-boned New England farmer, with a short, full beard, and a cold, calculating gray me ile at the dacs ae table one evening. “What's the object of *yeasSanin bagless Ogg 5 “Tl'm writing a greets, Baas Arthur Forbes, looking lad of eighteen. “You're doin’ what?” exélatmmed the farmer, putting down his cup and staring at his relative. “Writing a story,” repeated Arthur. “Writin’ a story? About what?” “About a boy who was shipwrecked on an uninhabited island in the South Pacific Ocean, just like Robinson Crusoe. “You see he-—-” “What nonsense are you talkin’ about?, How can you write a story about a boy who was shipwrecked when you’ve never been to sea and don’t know nothin’ about a shipwreck, nor _ about ships, nor sailors, nor nothin’ of that sort?” "Oh, I’ve read a great deal about ships, and sailors, and : shipwrecks, and tropical islands. I’ve seen pictures of ship- _ wrecks, and have a pretty good idea about them. Anyway, I “don’t describe how the ship is wrecked. That is supposed to = palede a, sacs before my story opens. I introduce my ero——’ _ “Your what?” ne “My hero—the boy I’m writing about. I introduce him as he is cast ashore on the island, tied to a broken spar. He is half dead, you know, for he’s been buffeted about by the waves for several hours after the ship foundered in a big gale which VABig now almost over. Naturally, there is a heavy surf beating - on the shore, and jt rolls him and the spar over and over, and i finally throws him up en the sandy beach, and there he lies for fifteen or twenty minutes, without the least sign’ of life un- a bright- tile. _ “That'll do, nephew. I don’t want to hear no more such tommyrot. If that’s how you’ve been employin’ your time, nae wastin’ good paper and ink, you want to quit it, dye un- derstand?” “But, uncle-———” “That do. I. don’t want to hear nothin’ more on the sub- a8 tat - the idea eh your head of soribblin’ such as that?” ; £ Hea I was intended 4 being oa oy took you for a smart boy. You went through school quicker’n mest boys, and always stoad at the head of your class. Now that you've finished with the high school, and it’s time you done somethin’ for a livin’, I was figg rerin’ on havin’ you learn the surveyin’ business, It’s as good as anythin’ I know Ofc? : “I'd rather be an author, uncle, There’s more money in writing at a cent a word, and upward, as you acquire a repu- tation——” “T guess you're plum crazy, nephew. Who'd be such a fool as to pay you a cent a word for such stuff as you’ve been foolin’ your time over? I wouldn’t give you a cent for all the words you’ve put down on paper since you started in, and I reckon from the time you've put in in your room you've written considerable—more’n a thousand words, maybe.” “T’ve written six chapters so far, and there’s about words in each chapter, on the average.” “That’s 12,000 words altogether,” said Mr. Claypole, with a frown of displeasure. *“How much more did you expect to write about the boy who was shipwrecked?” “T guess the story will make twenty-four chapters.” “Well, I guess it won’t for you're not goin’ to write any more—not if I know it, and I calculate ’m the head of this house, and nothin’ goes on here I don’t approve of.” 2,000 “T don’t see why you should object to me becoming an- » author; that’s what I’m eut out for,” protested Arthur. ‘ ne, object to anybody connected with me makin’ a fool of himself.” “Tf a person is intended for a literary career he doesn’t make a fool of himself by following the bent of his talents.” “You're only a boy, and you don’t know yet what you're in- tended for. I knew a chap once who thought he was intended to be an actor. He used to go ’round spoutin’ from a play- book till we all got sick listenin’ to him. His father tried to — lick it out of him, but he ran away and j’ined a bunch of trav- elin’ play-actors. a tramp, and so thin and peaked you'd a-thought he hadn't had a decent meal since he left home. His old man was afraid to lick him for fear he’d fall to pieces. After he pulled up a bit he went to work at the carpenter business. He never did no more spoutin’. to have your own way. You'd soon find out that the writin’ business ain’t what you think it is.” I’m considerable mor twice your age, and have had a lot of experience in this: world If you wasn’t my nephew you could Play author as long as. y | felt you could stand for it; but as you aro my nephew , | sider ree my. duty. to ud the ee ty ie on any suck confo : va} He came back in about a month lookin’ like He was cured of thinkin’ he was cut out for it an actor. It would be the same way with you if I allowed: you |
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9 . FIGUTIN G FOR € ’ FAME. me for lookin’ out for your interests,” said Mr. Claypole, pick- ing up the village weekly, and thereby intimating that the subject was finished. Arthur made no reply to his uncle’s long speech. Nevertheless, he was not moved from what he considered - the aim of his life. i f ? He had always had a taste for literature, but until now it had showed itself chiefly in the avidity with which he read: age writings of others. His favorite books were the works of Washington Tee, so far as he was able to get them at the village library; Shakespeare’s plays, Plutarch’s Lives of Great Men, Robinson Crusoe, Swiss Family Robinson, and several others; but his “reading was not confined to these by any means. That he undoubtedly possessed some literary ability was apparent from the compositions he had to write in school. They took the first rank in every class he was in where they were required, and the teachers frequently complimented him on the clearness of his style and his choice of words. A short time before the ‘opening of this story he produced his first effort—a tale of the adventures of seven boys. who went camping in the woods three miles from the village. It was partly fact and partly fiction. He was one of the boys, and the others were ali mentioned by name. After finishing the story he gathered the poys together and read it to them. They were greatly tickled, because each one of them was represented as having done some big thing in the writer's mind. They declared he must send it_to the editor of the village weekly for publication, for they, pyeied to..see their names and adventures in print. Arthur was more than willing to oblige them, as he was eager to see his own name in print as an author. Accompanied by one of them, he went to the office of the paper, the name of which was ‘the Jinxville News. Country editors and publishers are always easy to see. ; ’ The villagers and farmer subscribers are constantly bring- ing them items for Personal mention, such as “Miss Mawel Smith, of Tompkinsville, spent a part of last week with her friend Miss Carrie Brown”; or local news items, such as “Hd Peaseley has put a new roof on his barn,” or “the Women’s Sewing Circle will meet this Friday at the Widow Jones’ house,” ete. ‘So when Arthur and his friend Bob Smiter walked into the little six by nine business office, the space behind the counter of which represented the editorial room, Mr. Jed Prouty, the, owner of the paper, came hustling out of the composing and - press room to meet them. ’ } 'y ’ . mn Oy, wrote myself. He was short on news items for the forthcoming issue which went to press that evening, and he scented something | in that line from the boys. “Good-afternoon, Mr. Prouty,” said Arthur, politely. ' “Howdy,” replied the newspaper jndividual, beamingly. “Got something fer the paper?” “Yes. I brought you a short story, founded on facts, that I As you know all the boys mentioned in it, I thought you would like to print it in your paper.” Editor Prouty’s countenance fell. He wasn’t looking for short stories, unless they were very short and full of local news, for he had no space to accommo- date them, nor had his one girl compositor—his eldest daugh- ter, by the way—time to put them into type. It is true he printed one short story of about two columns ‘every week, when it wasn't crowded out by advertising. mat- _ ter, but he got the story, with other matter in column piate form, from Boston, and all he had to do was to drop it into the form on base blocks provided to hold it in place, and it was ready to be’ printed. ah These long column stereotype plates were a great boon to small newspaper publishers like Mr. Prouty. They saved composition, distribution, proof-reading, | and, consequently, time, and did not cost much; in fact, “Mr. Prouty, like many others, paid for his in advertising space, which not being’worth a whole lot, on account of his limited j circulation, he was willing to dispose of in chunks. “T thought you brought me some news items. I want them “badly,” said the disappointed editor. “How many do you want? Ill go out and find them for you,” said Arthur, who was a very accommodating boy. “Will you?” said Mr. Prouty, his countenance brightening “T'll be obliged to you if you will. Get me a dozen if you uw can use all va pe r sacemeegy ha ot eee it all pie it baby they expect has arrived yet. Be sure and find out whether it’s a boy or a girl, and what they’re going to call it if they’ve decided on the names. And go over to the hotel” and ask Nathan Mullet if he has anything for the paper. He always learns the latest news.” “All right,” said Arthur, “and while I’m away I wish you'd lock over my story and see what yousthink of it. Here it is.” “It’s bang-up,” volunteered Bob. As there were easily 4,000 words in the story, Mr. Prouty regarded the manuscript with an unfavorable eye. “Ts it a local happening?” he asked. “Yes. It happened over in the Robinson woods.” “Well, maybe I ¢an use it by cutting it down,” said the editor. “Don’t cut me out,” cried Bob, in some anxiety. a tramp that was going to rob the parsonage.” @ 18 that so?” said Prouty, with a look of interest. heard of any one being in the lock-up lately.” “He got away, but if it hadn’t been for me the minister would have been robbed.” Arthur’s story was returned to him later, with the editor’s regrets that owing to lack of space he couldn't squeeze it in, which was a cheerful bit of fiction, but the following items, culled from it, all of which: were creations of the young author’s brain, but which the editor supposed to be facts, ap- peared in next morning’s issue: . : “Robert Smiley, the seventeen-year-old son of our esteemed fellow citizen, Thomas Smiley, captured a tramp in Robin- son's: Woods last week, but, unfortunately, the rascal made his escape before he could be landed in the lock-up. Young Smiley’s courageous action is to be commended, as,the tramp had designs upon the parsonage, and had he not been inter- “T captured “T ain’t ‘fered with, might have effected his nefarious purpose.” “Hddie Snow saved the life of David Swift in Robinson’s Woods last week at great risk to himself. Hddie deserves a medal.” ¥ “Jimmy Fosdick, son-of Timothy. Fosdick, whose adver- tisement will be found in another column, while fishing with Bert Applegate and Ned Wlynn,»in Pigskin Creek, observed that the spring freshet had undermined the foundation of the railroad culvert. At that moment the boys heard the whistle of the afternoon express. With great presence of mind Jimmy dropped his fishing line, tore off his Jacket. and ran down the track waving it in the air. eThe engineer saw his signal and the train was stopped. Jimmy explained the situation to the conductor, and the train hands repaired the ~ culvert so that the train passed over in safety. It is expected — that Jimmy will receive some substantial evidence | of the company’s appreciation of his services.” The foregoing and a couple of others helped fill up the local column, and produced considerable of a sensation in Jinxville next morning. Jimmy, Hddie and Bob were regarded as heroes until the truth subsequently came out, but the boys maintained the fiction as long as they could, and bore their honors as boys might be expected to do under the circumstances. : Arthur, though greatly disappointed because his story was denied the publicity of the press, was greatly tickled at the idea of Editor Prouty printing the fiction incidents of his otherwise true narratiye as fact, “and he es his six friends held a high jinks over it, CHAPTER II. THE GLOWING EYES. : ; One summer, twenty years since, George Forbes, an artist, came to the village of Jinxville, put up at the little hotel, and put in his time sketching in the neighborhood. In the course of his saunterings he met Nellie Claypole, } Caleb Claypole’s sister, who was helping her brother on the farm which had just come to him through the recent death: of their father. It was a cage of love at first sight with both of them, Be that winter Nellie, much against her brother’s wishes, mar- ried George Forbes, and went to live with him in Boston. There Arthur, the hero of this story, was born. When he reached his tenth year he had the milatortine opees lose both his parents in quick succession, and he would have. been thrown on the world only for his uncle, who took him — to live with him on his farm. TaN There he grew up like any country boy, did chores around } the place, and went to the village school. / Ee proved so smart that his uncle decided not to confine ‘him to the farm, but to make a lawyer, or doctor, or som ee i et out of fey and with this: idea he sent Arthur
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FIGHTING FOR FAME. 3 - The distance was six miles, which he covered back and forth five times a week on horseback. “At the time we introduce him to the reader he had lately graduated, and ‘his’ uncle had made up his mind to make a: surveyor of him, as he found out that. county surveyors made lots of money, though he did not figure on the amount of in- oe necessary to land such a fine job that many were er. Although Arthur’s: first story did not appear in print, it went on an extended route of private inspection. Hach of the six boys who figured in it took it home in turn for their folks to read it, and the sisters of some of them loaned it to their friends, so that it acquired quite a cireula- tion, and was the means of giving its young author some local reputation in a small way. A few days after the conversation detailed in our first chap- ter, the story in question finally returned to Arthur in a some- what dilapidated state. The appreciation shown toward his initial effort induced him to start a more extended work in the shape of.a work of fiction, which he thought might be completed in from twenty to thirty chapters. Using Robinson Crusoe as a model, he began the tale that his uncle took a decided objection to, as shown. Arthur was so interested in his new story that he did not intend to accept his uncle’s ultimatum. He locked what he had finished in his trunk, and did not leave the key around for his aunt, who sympathized with her husband in his opposition, to find. It was about eight one evening that Bob Smiley brought back his short story concerning his friends’ alleged as well as real adventures in Robinson’s Woods, and Arthur entered . the sitting-room wéth.it in his hand. His uncle was not in good humor, for his wife, who was ‘present and ifet looking pleasant, either, had bought what. the farmer considered an extravagant bill of goods at the village general store, and he had been calling her down about it. Mr. Claypole stood with his back to an open grate fire, which a sudden change in the June weather had brought into being, ' ies for Mrs. Claypole’s ss as she had taken a yi col The farmer had come out at the short end of the argument with his wife, and this fact added to his irascibility. Mr. Claypole glared at his nephew, not because he felt an- tagonistic toward him, but because his eyes reflected the state of his mind. When the farmer was in his present humor it didn’t take much to start him going on a new tack. The sight of the manuscript in Arthur’s hand had the same effect on him as a red garment on an angry bull. “What have you got there?” he demanded of his nephew. “The story I wrote about——” “Didn’t'I tell you to give up story writin’?” cried Mr, Clay- pole, belligerently. “Oh, I wrote this before——” The farmer had no patience to listen to any explanation. He took it for granted that this was the yarn about the boy who was shipwrecked on the uninhabited island, and that his , hephew had been adding to it in defiance of his mandate. sane was enough to set the live coals of his wrath into a aze He suddenly swooped down on Arthur and snatched the Manuscript out of his hand. “So this is how you waste your time, is it? Look at that, Maria,” to his wife, as he ran over the twenty odd pages that -%Iaade up the story. “Look at all them pages filled with non- Sense about an imaginary boy wrecked on an island that neve existed. No wonder authors live in garrets and starve to eh death, as I’ve heard they do. Only a few of them are ever _ heard of, and our nephew here thinks he’ll become one of them. _ Nobody connected with me is going to starve in a garret with my help. So this story goes into the fire.” “Don’t, uncle; please don’t burn my story,” begged Arthur. “Stand” back! I won't have no writin’ business in my fam- ily,” answered Mr. Claypole, harshly, dropping the sheets in ‘the flames. ng “That’s right, Caleb. Sich nonsense is a waste of time,” r said his wife. Thus perished the first fruits of Arthur’s jadiitne genius, “and the boy, powerless to we his story, watched the sheets . ate blaze up and crumple into b ea ae fragments with fetes re better imagined than describ Arthur never for sot the deat rigtiele of his first story, ‘To him. it was almost lik tue parle! of Hite, ‘preference to one of the dark ones. the. death of one’s Beet born on | Whether it was good, indifferent or bad did not concern him so much as the fact that it was his first, and it had been his intention to keep it, all thumbed over as it was by inter- ested and friendly critics, and exhibit it to his friends some day in the future when, as he fondly anticipated, he had be- come a great author, and his books stood on the library shelves beside Washington Irving, Charles Dickens and other distin- guished literary lights. And now it was forever gone, and even were it possible for’ him to reproduce it, word for word, which was out of the question, it would not be the same. He went to his room feeling: down in the mouth. Locking his door, he opened his trunk, took out the opening chapters of his new tale and tried to comfort himself with them. Afier reading over again what he had written, his muse im- pelled him to go on with his work in spite of Mr, Cae and his ultimatum. ~ It wasn’t that he was a disobedient boy. Indeed, he was quite the opposite. But he felt that his uncle was unjust in his estimate of lit- erature; doubtless through ignorance of the subject, and as his own tastes and ambition all pointed toward the temple of lit- erary fame, he believed he was the best judge of what he ought to do as a life-work. : So he proceeded to write Chapter VII., detailing the further adventures of his hero on the uninhabited island in oor South , Pacific Ocean. Time passed, his uncle and aunt went to bed at their cus- tomary early hour, and the young author’s pen: still traveled over the paper at a great rate in order to keep pace with the ideas that flashed across his mental vision. ‘ Everything he put down was protographed in his mind’s eye. It was as if he was simply describing things he actually saw unfolding before him in panoramic form. At no time did he have to pause, bite his pen-holder and con- sider what he should say next. The real trouble was to catch up with his ideas. They eame in a stream that seemed to have no end, He ended the chapter and started on with a new one. His hero had discovered footprints in the sand. é Not the footprints of a savage, like those that startled Rob- inson Crusoe, but the footprints of boots, and they led toward a cave in the rocks in a part of the island he had not as yet had the time to explore. He reached the cave and gazed into its black depths. “Jack debated whether he should take the risk of entering the mysterious looking cavern,” wrote Arthur, full of his sub- ject, “when suddenly he perceived a pair of glowing eyes peer ing at him from out of the darkness.” Having put that down, Arthur reached for more ink when, mechanically raising his eyes, he was startled to see a pair of real glowing eyes peering in at him from the darkness outside his window. a As his room was on the second floor, re there was nothing under his window for an intruder to stand upon, Arthur could . not understand how the eyes, which evidently belonged to.a man, could be in such a position. Before he could get a line on the phenomena, the eyes dis- appeared. Like a person aroused from a spell, Arthur sprang on his feet and rushed to the window. Pressing his face against the glass, he looked out, but he could see nothing, for the night was as dark as the ace of spades. Being a lad of courage and resolution, he threw up the sash and looked down. te If there was a ladder there he eouldn’t make it out. It stood to reason, however, that the owner of the eyes couldn’t have got up there without a ladder. 7 Arthur reached for the lamp and flashed it downward. There was not the sign of a ladder against the wall. % Clearly the man had removed it, which he could easily have done during the interval if he was spry. w Arthur jumped to the conclusion that the man was a oe ; with designs upon the house. ¢ The young author’s window was the only lighted one in the — house, and he wondered why the man had climbed up to it ine Possibly he was curious to learn who was sitting ni so. eee hg ‘the clock on the pee eg indicated the 3 hour of mid- ° nig! Qn eet he hia found. out, ‘and he was also aware oe his - P
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FIG presence had been noted, so it seemed likely he would beat a retreat. ~ Arthur elosed the window, but he did not feel like going | on with his ‘story. He was not sure but the man was hovering around the yard. Anyway, it was late and time for him to quit. He lecked up his precious manuscript, turned the lamp down and began to disrobe, but his thoughts were now engaged with the man with the glowing eyes, and his gaze frequently wan- dered to his -window. It did not seem reasonable to him that the man would dare come back, but nevertheless he half expected that he would. Even as he figured on that possibility there came a tapping on the glass. Arthur looked and saw the same glowing eyes again. CHAPTER IIT. THE ESCAPED CONVICT. The tapping on the pane showed that the intruder was de- signedly bent on attracting the attention of the occupant of the room. What was his object? p i Arthur was a quick thinker, are only as a writer but other- | wise. It docutiad to him that the man, having tried all the»win- dows within his reach and found them fast, had ventured _upon the nervy expedient of trying to induce the one wakeful ‘person to open his window, with the view of leaping in and overpowering him heforé he could call for help. Some boys would have been greatly alarmed at the reap- pearance of the stranger, and most would have deemed it pru- ‘dent to bring some one pies on the scene to grapple with the situation. Not. so Arthur. He was strong and athletic, and believed himself a match for any. man of his size not a professional fighter, and 4s he figured that the advantage was on his side, he decided to see What the trespasser wanted, He forgot to consider one thing—that the man might have) a revolver, which would turn the tables on him. To be on the safe side, he picked up a baseball bat and APs proached the window. Slipping the catch, he raised the sash a couple of inches. “What do you want here at this time of night?” he asked, “Don’t you kuew me, sonny?” replied the intruder. ‘ “Know you! Who are you?” . “Raise the winder higher so I can shove my face in. I’m not goin’ to hurt you. You don’t s’pose I’d hurt my nevvy, '-do-you?”. , Arthur started back in astonishment at the man’s words, ‘sash and project one leg.and the upper, part of his body ‘through the opening: “Stop where you are!” cried Arthur, rafsing the bat, “What's the matter? Don’t you know your own nunkie?” Yes, Arthur knew him allright. He was Mr. Claypole’s disreputable younger brother—the black sheep of the family. He hadn’t been in that neighborhood for three years, when | he dropped in only long enough to touch his brother Caleb for-, a sum of mohey, which. he got, though Caleb wasn’t in the habit of letting money get away from him if he could help it, “) The next heard from him» was that he had been sent to > State prison for ten. ‘years as principal in a highway robbery. As his tinte wasn’t half expired, even deducting the rebate _for good behavior, his presence here was something of a mys: | tery. “How is it you are here,.Silas Claypole?” asked Arthur, w ho could not recognize a jailbird tar the name of uncle. “Tf thought you were in—-—” ~ “Quod?” grinned thé intr adieu using the vernacular sto hich he was: used to, which, stood for prison. “So I was, ‘so 1 was;ebut bless your innocent heart the bolts and ain’t made that can hold me when I make up my mind to Then you have escaped?” “T'll allow that’s about the size of it, nevvy. here I am baek to partake of the fatted calf.” “ow id you come here?” : shouldn’t I come here? Ain’t this + mn? Ain’t this where my lovin’ hh rt aeell y live, not. to eee of m I sera: sic tcl e place then au ther and kind-! my Sipe -in-law ang i this: FLING FOR FAME. ' ain't gone and succumbed to the ills that kids catch as a mat: |ter of course?” /sure you'd be glad te see your unfortunate nunkie.” | and she thought more of me than I deserved. P’raps I thought | | my tender-hearted brother. |me another favor?” ; ‘stomach. Perhaps you’ll go down to the larder and fetch sa -and the stranger took advantage of his chance to throw up-the somethin’ to eat and drink?” v ashamed of me.” ‘asked, as he filled the bowl with scraps ol tobacco he | “Suppose it is, don’t you know that you're a disgrace to our re family, Silas Claypole?” 7 “Have a heart,’nevvy. Don’t call me names. I’m your ~ mother’s brother, and she always thought more ot me than she did of Caleb.” Yes, Arthur couldn’t deny that. His mother’s heart always warmed toward her younger brother. He had been a source of worry and pain to her, but in spite of his many shortcomings she always loved. him, even more than she loved Caleb. “You want to come in, I suppose?” said Arthur in a sub- dued voice. : “JT will consider it a favor, nevyy; not but I could come.in — anyway if I wanted to, for I ain’t used to being stopped, ii said the convict, stepping in and shutting down the window as if | the room were his. “i’d have come in by the front door only it was locked, and I didn’t want to use ‘a jimmy on it, nor wake my kind brother up out of his first sleep. I’m always very considerate of people’s feelin’s when it don’t cost me nothin’,” grinned the speaker, who presented a wretched and — dilapidated appearance when viewed at close quarters. | “You didn’t consider mine, though, when you announced your presence outside the window,” said Arthur, curtly. “As we ain't met in three years, or somethin’ less, I was “Ym not glad to see you,” said the boy, frankly. “Tf your mother was alive, she’d——” “Tf she were alive and saw you now with the brand of crime on your brow, and looking like a wreck of what she knew you, it would break her heart,” said Arthur, the tears coming ee his eyes. “Nevvy, I can see you're jest like Nellie,” ae. the nase from justice, with as much feeling as he was capable of show- ing, which wasn’t a whole lot. “She always was soft-hearted, © a lot of her, though I didn’t let on. But she’s dead now, so what’s the use of talkin’ about her. I’ll allow I have a feelin’ — for you, ‘cause you're her son, and ‘cause I made no mistake when I sized you up three years ago as a smart chap who was goin’ to turn out a real man. I’m willin’ to take my hat off to you, and that’s more’n I’d do for my brother. I needn’t ask you if he’s the same close-fisted chap I always knew him — to be. A leopard can’t change his spots, and no more can And now, nevvy, maybe you'll do ie “What is the favor?” ¢ “When a chap ‘gets to that p’int that he shies at his own shadder, circumstances ain’t favorable for him to keep a full i do it, for I wouldn’t send a strange dog away hungry, and you’re a human being,” said Arthur. } “And don’t forget, Oe Ym your uncle, even if you're Arthur went downetatea and, looking through the pantry, appropriated half of a roasted chicken, part of a small loaf of bread, a chunk of butter, and filled a ‘pitcher with- milk, — He carried the food to his room, where he found his disrepu- table relative seated at the window with his boots on the sill. Arthur laid thé things out on his table, with a plate, malts f and fork for Silas to use. The escaped convict did not wait for an invitation to sit up. He attacked the food with a ravenous pipes east showed how hungry he was, Arthur sat on his bed and watched ‘him ef silence. xz Silas made short work of the chicken, which he tore apart with his fingers. pate used the knife only to cut off slices of bread and butter them As for the aailk, he turned down the giass. the hoy had pr , vided and drank from the jug. “That's the first decent meal I’ve had since I was sent ‘ for the good of the State, as the papers cali it,” said 8, pushing back his chair with a sigh of sat sfaction, and then | pulling out an old Elie ca! pipe he had Rashi ta up se where. “You're going to Srhoket” asked Arthur. “Such is my intention, Got any ‘objectio , corners of his’ pocket. ‘This is my ro ‘ said the boy out of |
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~“T'll open the winder.” “I don’t care if you do. If you want to smoke, go down to the kitchen. You know where it is. Or, better still, go down in the yard.” “T'll go in the kitchen. I might find some trouble gettin’ back in the house. I can see you ain’t stuck on havin’ me stay here.” “To tell you the truth, I’m not. brother would object.” “Would you turn your nunkie out of doors such a night as this? If Nellie was alive she’'d—— “T wish you’d leave my mother out of your remarks.” “Do you order me out, nevvy? If you do I’ll go, but I wouldn’t go for no one else. But if you send me away I’m liable to be arrested before mornin’, for two detectives are after me, and they’ve tracked me down here. Before they take me there’s goin’ to be blood spilled. I’ve got a gun, and every chamber is loaded.” ; Silas Claypole pulled a big navy revolver out of his pocket and showed it. “Would you add murder to your other crimes?” cried Ar- thur, aghast. } “Look here, nevvy, I’ve been. eighteen months in prison, an’ it’s ——— We won't repeat the word, but it was expressive. . / (“Pye made up my mind that I’m not goin’ back,” continued the conviet. “I'd sooner go to the morgue, but if I do I won't go alone. A feller who’s been through what I have feels kinder desperate: He doesn’t care much what he does. That’s the » way I feel now towards the sleuth-hounds who are after me. When they corner me there’ll be somethin’ doin’.” Silas spoke like a man who meant business, and Arthur be- lieved him. “You say the officers have tracked you to this neighbor- “hood?” he’ s% “They were bound this way at last accounts.” . “Then why did you come here? Don’t you. know it was the worst place you could have selected.” “Tll allow you're right, nevvy, but I made up: my mind that IT had to have money to help me get away to Canada, and Ca- leb is the only one I could look to.” “He isidone with you. When he read that you had been sent to the State prison he keenly felt the disgrace that attached to the family. He swore that if you came back here after you got out he would shut the door in your face.” “He said that, eh?” “He did. I heard him.” i “T s'pose he wouldn’t have given me a meal like you did.” “T don’t think he would. sent yourself earlier this evening, for when I came home he was in bad humor over jsomething. . might have happened between you two had you come to- gether.” “Just so,” said Silas, with a grim look. take my chances—is that the programme?” “You'll be safer away from here, for the officers are liable to turn up at any moment, and you can expect no help from - your brother,” “Would you give me up, too, nevvy?” ‘ “» “Wow could I protect you?” ) “You might get-the key of the barn and let me have it.” “You couldn’t lock yourself in. door open and suspect where you were.” “Right you are. one of the winders and jimmy it open.” “You couldn’t force any of them, Don’t you know they’re held by a heavy wooden bar resting in iron sockets?” “That's right, nevvy. I can’t get. in there unlegss——” “Unless what?” “You go with me and lock tho door after I’m inside. you ‘11 do that much for me I won't forget it.” “Very well. Get out of the window, take the ladder back where you got it and wait for me at the barn.” “This ain’t no trick to get me out, is it, nevvy?” said the ‘onvict. caro I’m doing it for the sake of my mother, alive she’d wish it that way. Goon, now. Every moment may bi bo precious ‘to you if you hope to’ make your escape,” said _ Arthur. F ‘Silas dropped ae pipe in his pocket and started for the wi indow ; ¢ bi ne “puk: one foot ‘out wai then paused. — ‘Nevyy,” he fare “Caleb ‘keeps: a box. of tobacco ae the mit) ; Anyway, I know your “Tm to go and If If she were It’s a good thing you didn't pre- I hate to. think what The officers would find the} I'll have to take the ladder, climb’ up to, good. and all, I wouldn’ t Taise a one to save’ ¥ FIGHTING FOR FAME. ise 3 “Fetch me a handful of it, will you?” elo Wille? “You're the right sort. I wish my brother was like you.” : ble Silas put his other leg out and disappeared down the adder, CHAPTER IY. THE CONSTABLE AND THE DETECTIVES, Arthur went down into the kitchen, taking the dishes with him, which he laid in the:sink. 4 He got the key of the barn, took several handfuls of tobacco, which he rolled up in a paper, unbarred the kitchen door and went out. He found Silas waiting for him at the barn. Handing him the tobacco, he unlocked the big door. “Thanks, nevvy. As I said before, you’re the right sort, I might know you were, seeing as Nellie was your mother. Now lock me in and forget you’ve seen me.” Thus speaking, the escaped convict stepped into the puild- ing. , “You don’t need a light, for yo u know the building well,” said Arthur. : “Sure [ know it. I've been in it often enough, and I guess it ain’t changed much since the old man put it up forty years ago. Caleb ain’t one to spend good money alterin’ and im- provin’ if there ain’t no need of it.” : He chuckled as he walked away in the darkness, and ane i thur locked him in and.returned to the house. ' Then he went to the room, partly closed the window, se- cured it with a patent catch, took off his clothes and went to bed. ; It took some time before he fell asleep, for Silas’ presence . ~ on the premises was a menace in a way, and if the detectives sp came to the farm looking for him, as they probably would if | they had traced him to that neighborhood, there was likely : to-be trouble and notoriety. ; He was satisfied that his uncle Caleb would do nothing to Shield his unfortunate brother, and for that reason, as well as #03 because Silas was his dead mother’s favorite brother, Arthur 9 felt sorry for him. ‘ee At the same time he could find no excuse for his younger ¥ uncle’s misdeeds. he Silas had been:a wild chap when he was young, and gave his father a lot of trouble and anxiety. st For that reason he left him only $100. in his will, most of his property going to the elder son, who was steady and plod- — ding, and would make good use of it. Ue After his father’s death Silas went from bad to worse, and finally wound up, as we have seen, in the State prison, from which he had just escaped, with two other convicts. Arthur had been asleep a couple of hours, and the clock in his room pointed at four, when he was aroused by a, peunaie -on the front door of the farm-house. ; He sat up and listened. The noise had aroused Caleb, who opened his window and asked who was there. The constable of the village was there with two other men; ‘ and he told Mr. Claypole to dress and come downstairs. ° x “What do you want to see me about at this. -hour in the morning?” asked the farmer. Fave es ll‘ learn when you come down,” replied Constable Cox . Claypole knew that the constable’s errand must be im Rit but he could not imagine the meaning of it, Grumbling at having been awakened | an hour earlier tha *his*regular rising time, Caleb. got into his clothes and mai a his appearance at the front door. ii The constable’s light wagon and two saddle-horses . stood outside the gate, but the two who came with him were not to be seen. ' One had gone around to the back to watch the house tr that point, while the other had taken up his position ne hside door. “Well, what’s the trouble?**asked the farmer. : “We are after your brother, Silas,” said the constable, escaped the day before yesterday from the State prison, the two detectives who are with me have trailed him to th neighborhood. They argue that the most likely place h would make for is your house, in order to raise money to help — him out of the country. .I ask you if he is in you ouse now?” 4 “No, he is not. I haven't set- eyes on him for three years ‘It is news to me that he has escaped from prison. If he amie | here I wouldn’t receive him. I am done with ine rascal - i
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6 FIGHTING FOR FAME. retaken. He has disgraced me and the family, and I don’t care what becomes of him. I sent him word not to show him- self here when he had served: his time. I don’t want to see him’ again.” Caleb spoke forcibly, and clearly meant what he said. “Well, Brother Claypole, I believe you wouldn't lie, even to save your brother, but it is my duty to search your house. One of the officers has a search warrant which I will show you if you wish to see it, and it is really his duty to do the searching, but out of consideration for you I have induced him to let me go through your house instead,” said Constable Cox. : “You are welcome to search my houss, but I tell you before- hand that you will not find Silas, for he hasn’t been here,” said the farmer. The constable called the chief detective and had a talk with him, then he went through the house, accompanied by the farmer. * They came to Arthur’s room and that lad was found awake. “What’s the matter, Uncle Caleb?” he asked, though he had a pretty good idea when he recognized Constable Cox. “Nothin’,” replied his uncle, curtly. “Why. ain’t you asleep?” ‘“T was awakened by a pounding on 1 the front door. What is Mr. Cox after?” “He’s lookin’ for a burglar that he thought might haye got in the house. Go to sleep and don’t mind us.” The constable merely glanced around the room, and then they walked out and shut the door. “They're hunting for Silas,” said Arthur to himself. “If the constable goes into the barn he’ll find him there, and then there'll be a muss.” Arthur got up and sat by his window, which overlooked the tern and the yard. It was half-past four, and morning was coming on. ” It was still dark, however; as the sky was overcast. The constable finished up with the cellar, and was satisfied the man he was locking for wasn’t in the house. “Could your brother have got into the barn?” he asked the farmer. “Not unless he broke open the door. It is locked with a heavy padlock, and it ain’t an easy proposition.” The constable said he would look at the door. “How about ‘the windows above?” “They're barred on the inside and couldn’t be forced with anythin’ short of a sledge-hammer.” The constable and the officers went over to the barn and - found everything looking all right. '. “No need of looking in here,” said Cox. “But his brother may have hid him here,” said tHe chief officer, who took no particular stock in the farmer’s apparent indifference to his brother's fate. “No fear of that,” replied the constable, who knew Caleb better than the detective did. The sleuths, however, insisted on searching the barn, so the farmer got the key and they went in. Caieb lighted a lantern, and they went through the build- ing. _ Arthur saw their figures go in, and he anxiously awaited results. — _* There were none, for the officers saw no sign of their man in the barn. When they came out without Silas, Arthur was surprised. He wondered where the escaped convict had hidden himself. * He might have burrowed under the hay in the loft. It was about the only safe retreat he could have found. The boy was glad he had managed to elude his pursuers. The other outhouses were looked over, but the fugitive was not to be found. * _ After a consultation the constable went away, leaving the - two detectives on watch, ensconced in one of the outhouses. It was five o’clock by that time, and Caleb called his hired as eh _. Arthur was asleep again, and he did not get up until called down to breakfast. “What’s the meanin’ of them dishes I found in the sink this mornin?” said his aunt in a sharp tone, while his uncle, looked at him curiously. “Not only that, but the half chicken, ; part of a loaf of bread, and I don’t know what else, is missin’ Gs from the larder this mornin’ . I reckon you must know some- ' ‘thin’ about ’em, for nobody else does. I never know’d before of you bein’ took hungry in the night, and that there chicken and bread would have filled up two like you. Con sown waitin’ to hear what you have to say.” him. ; Paige adi hear about iy E ‘l get lea on ke bet Arthur saw that he couldn’t eyade the question, and he ob- served a.strong suspicion in his uncle’s eye. “Well, I might as well tell the truth, aunt. Silas res came to my window during the night,” he began. “He did!” roared Caleb. “He told me he had escaped from prison and was most starved, so I let him ‘into my room and “How did he reach your winder? Did he use a ladder?” said Caleb. : “As he didn’t have wings, he had to. I brought him the chicken, the bread and a jug of milk. He ate as though he were half-starved, then he went away.” “Where did he go?” “He vanished down the ladder, which I told him to put back” where he got it.” At that moment one of the detectives came in to breakfast at the farmer’s invitation. “I’ve just learned that my brother was here last night,” ~ said Caleb. “How did you find out?” said the sleuth, with a look of in- terest. “My nephew here saw and spoke to him. He also supplied him with a meal.” “Tell me all about it, young man,” said the officer. “Tn what way are you interested?” asked the boy. “T am a State detective and I’m hunting for Silas Claypole.” “My uncle has told you all in a nutshell.” “T want the details. When did he come to the house?” “Around midnight.” “Where is your room?” “Over the kitchen facing the yard. He put a ladder under my window, climbed up and tapped on the glass.” “T see. That woke you up and you let him in?” oe Wa bE: ‘ ; “Tell me all that happened and what he said.” - Arthur told his story with certain reservations, and wound up by saying that Silas, after eating, went away. “Did he tell you where he was going?” “He said something about going to Canada, because it wasn’t safe for him to’stay in this nefehborhood.” The detective went outside and called his companion in and told him what he had learned from Arthur. They hurried through their breakfast, and then mounting their horses, which had DECR looked after by the hired man, rode away. CHAPTER V. THE STORY OF THE MYSTIC ISLE. Arthur expected his uncle would haul him over the coals for helping his brother, but he didn’t. His aunt said nothing more about the food taken from the ee pantry, but she did not look pleasant. After breakfast Caleb went to the barn. He went up into the loft to pitch some hay down, and was staggered when his brother Silas. suddenly appeared from under the back of the hay. What passed, between the brothers we will not attempt to chronicle; it is sufficient to say that the interview was a heated one on both sides. Silas declined to say how he had got into the barn without disturbing the padlock, but Caleb had his suspicions. In the end blood proved thicker than water, as the saying es and the farmer promised to keep mum concerning his brother’ 8 Pe presence in the barn. “ He agreed to supply Silas with his meals that day, and. ive: him. $10 on condition that he would depart after dark. — Then he called Arthur out in the yard. “You opened the barn last night so Ty brother Bee hide there,” he said. ; “Flow do you know that? Didn’t the officers search the barn this morning?” “He was hid under the hay in the Gee. and ‘they ae, [him,” “Have you seen him?” ae, “T have.” r 149, “And he told you I let him in the barn?”. “No, he didn’t tell me, but as it was impossible for, him to” get in there under the circumstances without help, I know you let him in.” Well, I won’t deny it. Is he there now?” . “Yes, he’s there now, and I’ve agreed to fecd nim and run the risk. of keepin’ him under coyer till dark. If the con- He's a ates and fi felt sorry S rs
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wid TAs FIGHTING ee a a eS ee FOR FAME. | a; 3 Sra eee Ae “He won’t hear of it through me. I’m glad you've given him a chance.” “He doesn’t deserve it, the scoundrel,” said Caleb, heatedly. “Never theless he’s your brother, and, bad as he is, I think it is your duty to show him some consideration.” “Huh!” ejaculated the farmer, and then he walked away ’ toward. the kitchen. Later on Arthur paid a visit to Silas in the loft of the barn and handed him $5 of his savings to help him on his way. “T wish you’d turn over a new leaf and try to be a decent man,” said Arthur. “What's the use? branded for life,” replied his disreputable uncle. “You say you're going to Canada? If you change your name and take up with honest work, you'll not find yourself branded. No one will suspect you of having been a criminal.” “T intend to change my name, and I’ll have to take up with some kind of work to live. You needn’t worry about me if I once get across the border. You don’t look as’ if you were workin’ in the fields, and it ain’t like Caleb to have a young gent about the house doin’ nothin’. What are you doin’, any- way? “Nothing as yet. I have just graduated from the high school at. Northville. Uncle Caleb says I’m to learn the sur- veying business, so that I can become a county surveyor one of these days.” “T s’pose that® as good as anythin’ you could take up with. It’s better than farmin’, particularly as this farm won’t go to you, but to your cousin Noah when he grows up.” é. “Tm not interested in farming, and a person ‘never makes a success at what he isn’t adapted for.” “T guess you're right. Do you think you're adapted for a surveyor?” “T’d rather be an author, and I iitene to be one some time.” “An author!*=Do you mean a book writer?” “Yes; and a contributor to newspapers and magazines.” “Js there money in that?” e “Plenty if you make a name for yourself.” / “Make a name for yourself! Why, you have one already. You ain’t thinkin’ of changin’ it, are you?” “Certainly not. You don’t understand. . reputation.” “Well; you’ve got the education, why don’t you become an author, then?” “Uncle Caleb won’t have it.” “He ain’t your father. Can’t- you be an author if you want LO “He’s my guardian, or calls himself so, and as long as I live here I’ll have to do as he says.” : “Then if Caleb says you're to be a surveyor, I guess you’re booked to be one. If it doesn’t pan out you can be an author afterward.” “Uncle Caleb says he won’t have any writing business in the family. Last night he burned up my first story.” “Did he? What was the story about?” Arthur described the story and said everybody who had read it thought it was fine. “Did Caleb read it before he burned it?” “No. He wouldn’t waste the time doing it. He hasn’t much _ respect for literature or persons who write.” “When Caleb gets an idea in his head it sticks there, He's down on me like a carload of iron, and nothin’ I could say would change him. We had it hot and heavy when I showed myself out of the hay, where I was hid when the detectives were nosin’ around after me, and he ordered me off the farm tight away. I told him I’d be caught if I went away in day- light, and he said he didn’t care, Then I showed him my gun, and told him I’d shoot before I was taken, and that he’d be _responsible for any blood that was shed. That fetched him, and he agreed to let me stay here till dark, and feed me into ‘the bargain. He told me never to come back again. He didn’t want to see me any more. Very affectionate of him, _/ wasn’t it?” grinned the disreputable fugitive. - “You ought to know the kind of man your brother is, and / you must remember that you've disgraced the family. Hvery- body in the village knows, you were sent to prison for high- way robbery, and the people have gossiped about it. Unele Caleb never goes to the village now unless he is obliged to. Now your escape will revive talk about you. {[t would have been better had you served your time and reformed yourself I mean make a after you were released. Now if you’re taken you'll lqse your “good conduct rebate, and be punished otherwise,” said/Arthur, -*T don’t intend to be caught>” said Silas, grimly. “I trust you won't, but the chanceg are all against you.” ry Once a chap has been in prison he’s a that. a Hob. pens came ee sul barn Fiteclingt | some time before on that island and lest his reason. ua i for Arthur, and hearing him call out, the young author closed. his interview with Silas and went down to meet his friend. “Say, Art, I came over to get that story again. Mr. Jack- son, the feed store man, wants to read it,” said Bob. “('m sorry, but the story is burned up.” “Burned up!” cried Bob. “How did that happen?” “My uncle put it in the fire soon after you brought it back to me.” “What did he do that for?” Arthur explained the situation. “Why, he must be crazy. for that story. It was fine. I’ve read lots worse.’ . “I’m writing another, a longer one—long enough to make: a book.” “Are you?” cried Bob, interestedly. “Yes, Come up to my room and T’'ll show you the opening chapters.” Bob went along with alacrity. 7 Arthur took the precaution of locking the door of his room after they entered to prevent being surprised by his Cousin Noah, who would certainly tell his father and mother about the new story if he found out about it. Unlocking his trunk, Arthur took his manuscript out. “Gee! you have quite a bunch of it written,” said Bob. “Seven chapters and part of another.” “How many chapters are you going to have in it?” “T can’t tell that now. Over twenty, and under thirty.” “Phat will make a regular book. What is it about?” “A boy who was washed ashere from the wreck of his ship on an isiand in the South Pacific Ocean.” “That's like Robinson Crusoe.” “After a fashion; but he’s a boy, and he doesn’t do any of the things that Crusoe did.” “Doesn't he build a raft and go out to the wreck to get a ‘lot of stuff?” : “No., There isn’t any wreck for him to go to.” “But you said he was washed ashore: from a wreek,” “T didn’t state it just right. You see he runs away from his home in Oakland, California, and ships aboard a_ vessel bound for. Sydney. The vessel gets down among the islands of the South Pacific when a terrible storm comes on and she founders. My hero has just time to lash himself to’a piece of spar when the vessel goes down. Then he is tossed about for hours on the wild billows as the storm blows itself out, and about sunrise he is washed on to the island, where he lands more dead than alive,” said the young author. “Fine!” exclaimed Bob. “Shall I read you some of it?” “Sure. Go ahead,” said Bob. - “The name of my story is ‘Dick Horlick; or, Marooned on a Mystic Isle,” said Arthur. “That sounds all right. What is mystic about the island?” “Oh, lots of curious things happen to the hero which he can’t account for. In the end they will all be explained.” “Of course. If they wasn’t the reader wouldn’t be able to account for them, either, and that would spoil'the story, in my opinion.” Arthur then began his story and read the first Pane “How do you like it, Bob?” “Tip-top. ‘As good as any boy’s book I ever read. a on. : I’m interested.” The second mene’ pleased Bob, too, and he wanted to hear more, So Arthur kept on ‘and read as far as he had written—up to - the point where the hero sees the pair of glowing eyes peering out at him from the dark cave. “That's all,” he said, turning down the last sheet. “Who do the eyes belong to?” said Bob. “That’s one of the mysteries of the island.” “You know all about it, for you’re wiping the story uP, so ‘ tell me.” “But you'll want to hear the rest of the story when ve ig written it, won’t you?” “Sure I will.” “Tf I explained the mystery of the eyes to you now it a a spoil the story for you. pair of eyes on an island he supposed’-was uninhabited.” “T should think he would be. cific,” ; “Then they might belong to a crazy man who was wiecked You might have got something» Those eyes are a very important — feature, and the hero is very much startled to find such a They might belong to some ~ - wild animal like a tiger or a wildcat.” >¥ “You don’t find such animals on islands in the south Pa:
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8.» FIGHTING, FOR eS AME. ; : = —— = fe BOE IMENT: SELES SAAS A TERN BIR i “That's a more reasonable deduction, but it isn’t the right He iibokad on the door. one.” “Who's there?” asked the young author, es was employ- “How about a cannibal? The South Pacific was fuli of iidn- ing his time on his story, in close proximity to lis trunk, so eaters at one time.” that when he heard the key rattle in the lock he would have “No, youre wrong again.” ; time’ to put his mantiseript out of harm’s way. “Can’t the hero see anything but the eyes?” “Me,” replied Noah. “Not a thing, and they glow like a pair of live coals.” “What do you want?” “Maybe there’s a big snake in the eave.” “Father sent me to ask you if, you are ready to hand over “T never heard of big snakes being on those islands.” . that: story.” “But a vessel bringing a boa constrictor and wild animals “Tell him’ I am not.” to supply the menagerie of some. large circus might haye been Noah retreated, and no further overtures were made by tife lost on that island, in which event the snake, and some other | farmer. animals, would have stood a chance of getting ashore.” Arthur was hungry, but he was prepared to hold out till “Tf you think of enough things you may hit the segret, *| dark, then he knew what he would do. smiled Arthur. Many an author has written upon an empty stomach, but cat the circumstances were somewhat different from those which surrounded our young author. me Arthur had finished Chapter VIII., and was half through CHAPTER VI. aN the next. ‘ A PRISONER IN HIS ROOM. ® He began Chapter X. to the music of the dishes in the sink. , | He was real hungry now, but he wasn’t weakening any. ia a up his manuscript, slapped it into, Bis ‘trunk His eyes didn’t flow as rapidly as usual, and he got almost “Open the door, Bob, and see who's there,” he said ravenous when he pictured his hero making a meal off of 4 t ; " cocoanuts and bananas. Se aie on ede ori ay ee seneanae™ te He finished Chapter X. at half-past four and quit the job. Pataiiead Marni i ; As he was locking his trunk a package came whizzing “Yes, sir, but I don’t call my work nonsense.” through his open window. ‘ ; oN : He looked out, but saw no one. ow 2 " 0S aa else is it? You.make it up out of your head,, don't He opened the package and found three sandwiches, two « ” boiled eggs, two pieces of pie and a piece of cake, with a eard I admit that, All writers do that. imatked “From ‘Bobi! “ Last night I burned up that Boanaatiak business about a “You're a brick, Bob,” said Arthur, and forthwith’ he got Brae ee Werke: an tee Fon Moohooed Se was a short| 2¥ay with two of the sandwiches, one of the eggs, and half story about the adventures that Bob, I and five other boys Had of the pie. in Robinson’s Woods one Saturday afternoon 'a few weekg| That relieved his hunger for the time being,.and the rest ago.” he stowed away in his trunk for supper. if) “Why didn’t you tell me it was a story of facts?” He was in excellent humor rw, and chuckled as he pictur ed “T tried to, but you wouldn't hear a word from me, That| the disappointment of his uncle when he found that he held story went the rounds of a score or moré of the people of the | out at supper time. At that moment there came a banging on the door. | village. The brothers, sisters and parents of the boys who At that moment Noah came to the door again. 5 : AY a took part in the outing all read it and thought it was Intec: “Are you hunery 2)” he asked, “: ris esting, You might have read it, too, if you had wanted tr “Not at/all,” replied Arthur. “I “Then it was the story of the boy and the island that Noah} “What a whopper,” said Noah. “Mother has your dinner heard you reading to your friend here just now?” ‘in the oven. Throw out the story and we ‘ll put the ladder “J admit it was. Was Noah listening at the key-hole?” | up to your window so you can come down.” “Yes. He said you wouldn’t let him in the room.” “Nothing doing,” said Arthur, who began to whistle in a “J didn’t know he wanted to come in. He didn’t knock, or 1} cheerful way. didn’t hear him.” “You're only pretending,” said Noah. “I’ve got a hunk of ~ “You had your door locked. what did you lock it for?” | bread and ‘lasses here. Don't you wish you had it?” -“So Bob and I wouldn’t be disturbed.” “Don’t each such stuff,” replied Arthur. “Just so. Well, you can hand me what you've written of “I’ve got an apple, too.” ~ that story.” “Glad to hear it. Wat it up.” : “You want to burn it up?” ; Noah did eat it, and shoved some of the skin under the -*No matter what I want to do with it; hand it over.” door. “But, uncle, that story is worth money-—when it’s finished.”| Then he went. away and the young author heard nothing “Don’t talk like a fool. You couldn't get a nickel for all the | more from him till supper was on the table.. aye time you’ve wasted on it. Hand it over.” Then his father sent him upstairs again to find out if the f ‘he young author was too much interested in, and attached | Prisoner was ready to deliver up his manuscript. ‘ to, the second offspring of his brain to give it up. Arthur’s answer was the same as before, and Caleb Clay- He simply refused to do it. pole frowned ominously. / &Very eae nephew, you defy me, do you?” cried the farmer,| He wondered how long the boy had the nerve to hold out. ~ «f yéckon-I can bring you to terms, I shall lock you in your| Mrs. Claypole looked kind of serious. - room and you will get no dinner unless you give up that story. Was the boy bent on starving himself in order to carry Tf you hold out till supper time you'll get no supper, either, | OUt his point? un less you come to time. They tame animals by keepin’ foo “What are you goin’ to do about it, Caleb?” she asked. from ‘em, so I guess the same method will answer for you.” ; “Jl have to use stronger means to break ‘his stubborn: Z He motioned Bob out of the room, reversed the key in the | 25S, he said. sae es Jock and, turning it, took it out and put it in his pocket, “There ain't nothin’ stronger than makin’ him go hungry,” ; ay reckon he'll give in when he hears the dishes rattlin’ she said. “He ain’t had nothin’ since he had his breakfast We ownstairs,” said the farmer, grimly. “There’s only one bess at ayers T don’t see how he stands it. I think I'll send Him: 2S this. house, and that’s me.” up his supper.) , ne it was nearly noon then, Caleb didn’t think he'd have to} “You'll send Bang a nothin’ ta T say the word,’ xh sald Caleb, ait long for the story, which he intended to burn up as he! decidedly. “A the other one, ay he didn’t know the boy he had to deal nize Slevnele relapsed into silence and the meal went ‘on ‘to its finish. © rR : ; . ea ‘due ‘time “Arth ur heard the rattling of the dishes in the} Dusk had fallen and it would soon ve dark. feb a yi below, for he family were accustomed to eat in the} “Mother,” said Caleb to his wife, “get Silas’ supper ready “tate unless the minister, or some one else above the com-jand I'll take it out to him. He’s got to leave as soon as it Gi m mon, ¢ came to supper, when the small dining-room was used, Ett dark.” 36 the best china paraded before the visitor. BN ha Mrs, Claypole had the food ready in a few minutes. * The. dinner horn was blown for the farmer and his hired} — “When a set back V'll tend to Arthur,” said the farmer. » who were ome in one of the fields, and they re-| “What ar
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Pees ccunace FOR FAME. 9 Gradually it grew dark. Arthur guessed that his uncle’s patience would give .out and that he would make an attempt to take forcible posses- sion of the obnoxious manuscript. Hiding the key would do no good, for that would only ex- asperate Mr. Claypole, and he would break open his trunk. Even if he did not go to that extreme the young author felt ‘that his story would always be in danger, and the more he wrote of it the worse the loss of it would be to him. He could take it out in the woods and hide it, but then it would be in danger of suffering from the weather. He could let Bob keep it for him. On reflection he felt he wouldn’t take the same interest. in continuing it, which he would have to do under difficulties, as if he had the whole story by him. Finally he decided to carry out his original idea, which was to take it to Bob’s house until he saw how things turned out.’ It was dark now, and his uncle was still in the ay cavesaited with his brother. He had wrapped up his manuscript to take away. He put it under his vest, put on his hat, lowered himself at arm’s length out of the window, and dropped. He alighted on his toes near the kitchen door. _ Looking into the room, he saw his aunt washing up the sup- per dishes. Noah was playing with the house eat. The hired man was not in sight. Arthur darted around the side of the house and was soon making for the road. When he reached it he set his face toward the village. A walk of a quarter of a mile brought him to the small wooden bridge which spanned a creek. Under the shadow of the bridge lay something that was not there a couple of hours béfore, : _ Tt was’ a substantial-looking ee with a small ‘frame structure on it abont the size of a large dog-house. _' In the hollow of the bank, in line with the end of the bridge ; furthest from the village, a small fire was burning. A man and a boy stood in front of it. \ The latter was bent over and one hand grasped the handle of a frying-pan, which he held over’ the fire. He was frying three eggs. KY In a batch of live coals at one side stcod a black piietog. “pot. _ Arthur stopped and, leaning upon the railing of the bridge, looked down at them. Out of the bushes at one side came another man. He looked rough and unkempt, and fitted in nicely sid the pair below. In one hand he carried a red handkerchief, the four corners of. which were tied together, while the rest of the handker- chief bulged out in roundish knobs. “Hello, sonny,” he said to Arthur, aoe live ‘round here, I “reckon?” ; Pte si “On a farm, maybe?” «Ves, ” s “flow far is it to the nearest town?” “The village of Jinxyville is a mile down the road. nearest town is Northville, six miles away.” “* “In what direction?” Arthur pointed at an angle with the creek. “Where are you bound?” “Po the village,” , 3 “Seen any strangers in this vicinity yesterday. or to- day?” “Nobody but a couple of State detectives early this morning and you people here.’ igh ~ “What were the detectives doing around here?” “hoo! oking for a man who escaped from the State prison.” ; hike for a man, eh?” said the rough chap, putting an accent on we oe o “Yes. ” “Ave you sure they ,warn’t looking for more than one man?” “They told my uncle three men escaped, but had sie tse _ They were following one who came this. pray: x “Who might your uncle be?” .“Qaieb, Claypole.” us fell lo “uttered an ejaculation and foomedl hard at the The _ CHAPTER VIL. : “ADRIFT ON ‘THE RIVER. ; at juncture the man peter ‘sang. out ments, | them the his “T'm coming in: a ‘moment, ” replied Jim. name is Claypole?_ -Do you live pl him?” edo” E “Have you nate 0 “The detective: with Constable Cox, of this village, this morning. That is how I happened to see them.” “What time this morning did they cali?” “About. four o’clock,” replied Arthur, wondering at the interest shown by this stranger in the officers, and becoming suspicious as to his character and that of the man below. “When did they go away?” “About eight.” “What did they stay so long for? Did they search your place for the man they were looking for?” “Why do you ask that?” “They must have had some reason for staying four hours in one place.” 5 _ “They stopped to get breakfast!” “They didn’t find the man they were looking for?” AS, “Not up to the time they went\ away.” it “Where did they go—I mean in what direction?” ; “T didn’t notice.” “Are you sure they didn’t go to Northville?” | out “They might have gone there.” <¢ “Come down and see my pal.” Xe “What for?” said Arthur, drawing back. “Just to be sociable.” ‘ of “T don’t know him; besides, I’m in a hurry.” “Neyer mind your hurry, come along.” Gripping the boy by the arm, he pulled him along with him. Arthur tried to get away from him, for he didn’t faney the — looks of these two men, nor the boy, either, who was red- — headed and tough... eis “Pill, here’s a chap who says his uncle is Caleb Claypole,” said. Jim. “Then he’s.the nephew of Si Claypole,. garding Arthur with some curiosity. “That stands to reason, seeing that’ Caleb, and Si are. brothers.” aap “Did Si send him out to look for us?” ing “No.” said. the man Jim. “He says he hasn’t seen anybody sey but two State detectives who called at the Claypole farm at four this morning looking for a man who escaped from prison, Ee which man, of course, was Si.” fon “Ain't Si been at your place yet?” said Bill to Arthur. “What aro you talking about?” ; “What am I talking about? What, do you s'pose I’m talking — te about? Didn't I speak plain. enough?” 2 “Who are you people, anyway?” asked Arthur, though he was pretty well satisfied that the men were the two oagst os who escaped with Silas. “Who ate we? Patticular frionds of Uncle. Si. We're ote ae. ing to meet him in this direction, for he told us he was com- Ma ing down this way to see his” family. Ue te Arthur thought them very poor company for his younger uncie to meet. : “J suppose you are the fellows who got way: from the” prison with Silas,” he said. “The detectives said three men escaped,” <. ¥ “We got away from prison!” cried Bill. “What put that idea in your head? We are three respectable travelers, He yourself to a tater, Jim, and here’s a ‘tin of coffee for you.” . Jim helped himself to a potato, took a slice of bread with a — tried egg on it, which the red- headed youth: handed him, and i accepted the coffee, | At the same time he Kaptan -eye on ethar, and stood be- tween him and the path running up to the road. “I guess I'll be going,” said the young author. “It 1s. ge ting late, and I’ve an errand in the village and must get. ee by nine o'clock.” P “Don’t be in a rush,” said Jim, blocking his retreat, “ “What do you want to keep me sta for?” 3 “We like your company.” “Well, I don’t care for yours for he was impatient over the “So your uncle’s r lately?” eh?” said Bill, He a Arthur, aut ail put ae . The men laughed and went on peste: Wik Arthur was satisfied that the men had some ‘roth 5 ing on to him, and he looked around to sec how. he: cor
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10 FIGHTING FOR FAME, : came right up to it except on the pot cubated by the dis- reputable trio. The only place he could go was to step on the raft, and that wouldn’t do him any good. Tt was tied by a rope to,one of the beams of the bridge, at which it was pulling as if anxious to be off. Arthur knew the raft belonged to two farm boys, brothers, who had built it to go sailing on, and it was pretty certain the trio had stolen it from its moorings at the head of the ereek, and sailed down to the bridge on it, and doubtless. in- tended to continue their sail presently as far as Northville, at any» rate. The creck emptied into a river a third of a mile further on, and the river ran past Northville. The water in the creek was much higher than ‘usual, and the current faster than common. For that reason the boy owners had not used it much so far that year, for though they could have enjoyed pleasant sailing down the creek, they would have found it a difficult matter to pole it back against the current. The men seemed to enjoy Arthur’s anxiety’ to depart, and joshed him about it. Their intention was to take the boy with ee on the raft to prevent him from giving out information concerning them. When they were ready to abandon the raft, they intended to’ let him shift for himseif. As Arthur stood watching the three finish their supper, the idea suddenly oceurred to him that by stepping on the raft and cutting the rope he could eseape from them. He would have to be foxy about it, or Jim, who was close to him, could easily stop him the moment he saw his object. He put his hand in his pocket, pulled out his jack-knife concealed in his hand, and opened it behind his back. “When you fellows get ready to let me go I suppose you'll say so,” he said. “i’m going to sit down.” Thus speaking, he stepped on the raft and took his seat on the squat roof of the house, which the owners called the cabin. He took care to sit at the end near where the mooring rove projected up to the bridge beam. Jim made no move to stop him, because they had intended to force him-on to the raft in a minute or twe, and they grinned when they saw how he had saved them the trouble. As the men were ready to make a move, for the red-headed youth was cleaning the pan and coffee-pot in the creek, Arthur saw he had no time to lose if he was going to. pull off his . trick. He put up his hand and knocked off his hat, seemingly by accident. The hat fell, as he intended it should, near the ring which -held the rope. He stooped over to pick up his hat, and as he did so he be- gan sawing at the rope with his knife. The rope was not thick, and three cuts severed it. The raft at once shot away from the bank and started down the creek. Thé two men uttered Srolntistisis of surprise and an im- preeation or two, They couldn’t follow the raft without going to the top of the bank, and this they did after telling the youth to follow. » In the meanwhile, me ked up one of the two poles that lay on the raft a dice ed to pole the awkward craft toward the other pant As he got over in that. direction the bank offered no factilli- ties for landing, so he had to let the raft go on till he saw a favorable spot. The two men and the boy kept pace with him along. the other bank. The creek widened ‘out ‘as te approached its outlet into the river. Arthur knew there was a Pi Ta place near the turn, and he bent all his energies to make it. ‘The raft gradually neared it. ; ' The craft. would have to go, as he had no means of secur- ing it. a ee st6od réady to make: the jump, and was on the point of de so) when a stoneyithrown by the red-headed boy on the ‘¢ side, struck him ‘on the head, and when he recovered h elf his chance had pasa and the raft was slipping out into the river. a ‘He grabbed the pole again and made’ an effort to work the raft ashore, but the water in the river was too deep to give him the necessary hold on the bottom. ; So he had to give it up and take his chance of ianding some'| where between the creek oe ein ee irt The current of the river was fairly swift and swept. him along at a good pace. The only consolation he had was that he had got away from ‘the two rascals, _He soon found himself slipping along in the middle of the river. Before long the lights of Northville came in view. If he was able to land there he faced a six-mile walk to the farm, and that would take him an hour and a half. He would pass through the village on his way, and he meant to call on Bob even if he had to wake him up by casting peb- bles at his window. But to his disappointment he wasn’t able to land at North- yille, for the raft continued in the grasp of the current. It was a big river, which ran straight through into Con- necticut, and traversed the entire State, emptying into Long Island Sound. After the lapse of an hour Arthur began to see little chance of getting back to the farm that night. He could do nothing to help himself, since he had no con- trol over his craft. ; He sat on the cabin house and watched the lights as they hove in sight on either shore. As time wore on he grew tired of that amusement, and as the air was somewhat chilly, he crawled into the house, and finding a couple of blankets there he rolled himself up in them and looked through the opening in the way he was going. Not having had a full night’s rest the night before, his eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep. All through the night the raft drifted on without meeting with any obstacle. Early risers noticed the craft from the shore and wondered if any one was on it out of sight. The cabin gave it an odd look, and those who noticed it wondered what it was doing on the river. Arthur did not wake up till nearly eight o’clock, and, extri- cating himself from the blankets, stepped outside. He wondered how far he had traveled during the night. The question was a serious one to him, as he had only a few cents in his pocket, not enough to pay his way back by rail. Under such circumstances he did not know just what he would do. At half-past eight he passed a large town, and made signals to persons he saw along the water front. Little notice was taken of his signals, and those who saw them did not understand what he was making them. for. He shouted to the men aboard of a couple of small craft sailing slowly up the river, but this brought no response. It was now nine o’clock and his stomach was clamoring for breakfast. There was no chance of getting any until he was able to land at some town. After passing the town he traveled for two hours before sighting another, Then he slipped past that in the same way as the other. “Tm afraid I am launched on an extended cruise,” he said to himself. “I am surely a long distance from home by this time, and I dare say my uncle is considerably worked up over my disappearance. He probably thinks I’ve run away on | purpose. He'll hunt up a number of my friends to see if they know anything about my movem@nts, and they’ ll be mightily. surprised to hear that I have gone off. There is little chance of my uncle learning anything about me as long as I remain on this raft. The further I get away from Northville the harder it will be for me to. get back there. This is certainly | a curious adventure. It wouldn’t make a bad story by weay- — ing a little fiction into it. I dare say Mr. Prouty would print it in his paper.” ‘A small schooner was putting out from a wharf, and its course took it close to the raft. — There were two men and a boy aboard. : They seemed considerably interested in the edd craft that was floating down the river. Arthur waited till the vessel was abreast of him, about forty feet away, then he hailed her. CHAPTER VIII. ON BOARD THE SCHOONER. . “Schooner ahoy!” he shouted, in thé manner he nee read of in books. “Ahoy yourself! What do you want?” asked the man who was standing amidships. | “I want to be taken off this raft.” es) it pects away ie you?” —
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FIGHTING © ce FAME. 11 The wind being light, the schooner was not making much} preparations for dinner in a way that proved he knew his headway, though she was helped along by the tide. The man who had replied to Arthur’s hail walked aft and spoke to the boy. A small rowboat was dragging astern of the vessel. The boy caught hold of her painter, pulled her close up un- der the counter and dropped into her. The man unshipped the rope and tossed it into the boat. The boy got out a pair of oars and rowed to the raft. one up alongside of the low craft, he caught hold of its side “Where are you from and how did you get adrift?” he asked. “T’]l explain everything when you take me over to the schooner,” answered Arthur, “Jump in.” The young author was glad to do so, and in a few minutes he climbed aboard the schooner. “Well, young man; how came you to be adrift on that raft?” asked the man who proved to be the owner and skipper of the vessel, “Tt’s something of a story,” said Arthur, who then detailed all the facts concerning his encounter with the two men and the red-headed boy at the bridge near Jinxville, and the ruse he adopted to get away from them, which resulted in placing him in the predicament from which he was just rescued. “You’ve had quite an experience,” said the skipper, whose name was Bridge. “I suppose you are hungry?” “Yes, I could eat a good breakfast if one was set before 2 6.2? “Joe, take this young fellow with you and scare up some victuals’for him,” said the skipper, addressing the lad, who was his son. “Wollow me,” said Joe._ He took Arthur into the cabin and set a plate of cold corn beef.and some,.bread and butter, with a glass of milk, before him. “That’s the best I can give you now,” he said. “We'll have dinner in‘a couple of hours or less, and then you can fill up.” “This is all right,” said Arthur, eating away like the hungry boy he was. “But couldn’t you put me ashore in that small boat?” : “You and that moving.” “The further I go down the river the further Ill have to walk back.” “Walk back! Why you can get a train at Bakerstown that will take you to Northville, and you can walk home from there, as you say you live six miles from that Place.” “T haven’t any money with which to buy a ticket to North: ville.”. “No? That’s bad. What are you going to do?” “That is what bothers me. It’s a pretty stiff walk from here to Northville.” “I should say so. It’s more than forty miles. You'd have. to beg your meals on the way, and you might be arrested as a vagrant, though, of course, you don’t look like one, and I don’t suppose you would be. held after you told your story. Now if I were you I'd stay aboard here and go to New Haven With us. We're carrying a cargo for that place, and dad ex- pects to take on another for New York. You could turn in and help us unload and then help load up. Dad would be willing to pay you enough to take you back home by rail and leave you something over. That would be ever so much better than trying to tramp or beat your way back from Bakerstown. What do you say?” , Arthur thought well of the proposition and said he would be willing to go on the schooner to New Haven and work for enough to take him home. Joe went on deck to see his father about it, and the skipper agreed to it,.so the matter was settled. \ Joe said he was cook and general factotem aboard the schooner, and told Arthur to come forward to the little galley below the deck and help get dinner. “I gs’pose you’re used to helping around | the kitchen at home?” Joe said to him. “Oh, yes. .I often help my aunt when she is getting dinner,” replied Arthur. Joe handed him a pan with some potatoes in it and told him to peel them. -. +The job wasn’t a new one to the young author, and he _ showed he knew how to do it in proper style. His companion started up the fire, which had been shut oft since breakfast, put water on to boil, and went about, his other on’t want to go ashore till we come to the next town, on’t be for two or three hours yet at the rate we’re ae business. “T suppose your folks will wonder where you have gone to?” ‘said Joe. “> doubt about that, but I guess it won’t hurt them any.” Arthur, having taken a liking to the skipper’s son, told him about the trouble he had had with his uncle over his story writing. “Can you really write stories?” asked Joe, regarding Arthur as a superior sort of boy. “My friends think I’m first rate at it,” said Arthur. ; “Why does your uncle object to you doing it? I should think he would be glad to know you had so much ability.” “My uncle isn’t in sympathy with literature. He has a very poor opinion of authors. I don’t believe he’s ever read a work of fiction in his life. I’ve never seen him read anything but the village paper, and a farming journal he Subscribed for every year. He doesn’t care much for. reading. “T know two or three men just like him so far as reading is ates ned, but I never heard them find any fault with writers.” Arthur deseribed how his uncle threw the manuscript of his first story into the fire. “Tf-you are a good writer, I know what I’d do if I were in your shoes,” said Joe. s “What would you do?” “ “1’d go to New York and look ffor a job in’ ‘some ittoxnehi shop-where they print books and story papers. If you're stuck on writing, what’s the use of going home and having your uncle burn up all you write? In New York you could sell what you write and make money. After you got started you'd make more money than by following the surveying business in the country.” “That's my opinion,” said Arthur, much pleased at his com- panion’s encouragement. “I intended to learn suryeying to please my uncle, but I meant to write during my spare time, and send my stories to the papers. that printed such things. In that way I hoped to get a start in literature that would warrant giving my whole time to it, and then I might make a name in the literary world.” “That would be all right if your uncle didn’t interfere and stop you writing. If you wrote a story to a paper, and your uncle took it away from you and burned it.up, you wouldn't. be able to do much.” “I’m satisfied my uncle wouldn't let me do any writing if he could prevent it. He’d get Noah to watch me.” “Who’s Noah?” : “My cousin. He’d do whatever his father told him. It was he who gave me away yesterday, and so brought about all the trouble that resulted in my leaving the house last night to take the manuscript of my new story to a friend of mine in the village to keep for me so it would be safe. I have the story with me now, that is, what I have written of it, ten chapters.” “Ts that.so? Where is hy did ; “Buttoned inside of my vest here,” and Arthur showed him the edge of the: package. , “Let me read it after dinner, will you?” f “T will. If you are a judge of stories you will be able to pass an opinion on it and see what kind of an author : am.” “What sort of a story is it?” Bob told him. “A boy’s story, eh? I’ve read a binch of them, and I know a.good one when I see it.. I’ll show you some I have. You could write down the names and addresses of the publishers, and when you have finished your story you could take it to one of them and let him read it. 'He might buy it from you and give you a good price. Most of the books I’ve read were. printed in New York, so that’s the place for you to go, and not back home. us unload her, and dad will let you stay aboard until we get. a return cargo, and then pay you whatever is coming to you, so you'll haye something to Eye on till you get started,” 8 Joe. The prospect of going to ne York and trying his haat at authorship for a living was quite alluring to Arthur. It would give him the chance he was yearning for. . It is true it would not be treating his uncle exactly right, for he owed. a good deal to Caleb Claypole—his education and bringing up since his mother’s death—but he argued that his — ‘uncle had acted very unfairly toward him by his unreasonable opposition toward his literary aspirations. Seeing the bent of his mind, Mr. aveae should have let oe him put in his spare time as he saw a Bor You can go there on this schooner, and help:
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Py i of cigarettes. “The first ten years of my life.” \ _ “And the rest of the time you've lived with your uncle on ‘the farm?” “Veg, % day of it.” rhs be able to sell it right off the reel. half the boys’ stories I've read, 4 Bite oom as he. aie his sixth Clearette. re 12. FIGHTING o™% FOR FAME. But authorship and play-acting were two things his uncle wouldn't stand for under any circumstances. He was thoroughly prejudiced against’ both. Arthur knew that and he felt that his only show to try his luck in the former profession was to cut loose from his home, and this he determined to do before the day was out. He was called upon to set the table in the cabin, and help carry the cooked food there. Then the captain, his one man and Arthur sat down to din- ner, Joe remaining at the helm. hs The skipper finished first and relieved his son. Then the man left the table and went forward to smoke his pipe. Arthur stayed at the table with Joe, and listened to the lad’s talk about his life afloat and ashore. The young author learned that Joe’s home was in New Ha- ven, where he had a mother and several sisters, and the head- quarters of the coasting schooner was naturally at that place. The vessel was constantly employed carrying freight either to New York or points on the Connecticut. River. Sometimes she went to New London or Providence to load for New York, / Joe said he liked the work, and he didn’t know that he was good for anything else. PA} “Would you like it as well if you Were working for ‘a stranger?” said Arthur. “No, I wouldn’t have quite so easy a time of it. our schooner hardly ever gets outside the Sound, except, of course, when we go up to Providence, and then we run through Block Island Sound to Narragansett Bay.‘ I prefer inshore to offshore sailing, because it’s smoother going as a rule,” said Joe. “Tt’s smooth enough on the river here,” said Arthur. “Oh, this is a picnic,” grinned Joe. He got up and called on the young author to help him carry the dishes back to the galley, where he washed them, while Arthur wiped them dry. Then they carried them back to the cabin and put them away in the locker where they were kept. After that they went forward and sat down near the scuttle cover of the galley. » “Now, let’s have your story,” said Joe, Sailing out a package “Have a smoke?’ “No. I don’t smoke,” said Arthur, getting out the package of manuscript. “Say, you might read it yourself, You can wrestle with your own writing better than [ could,” said Joe. The young author was willing to do that, and he started in without loss of time. . Joe listened while he puffed at his cigarette, and at the end of the first chapter he said the story started well and he _ guessed it was going to be a good one. “T thought you’d like it because the hero is a young sallor, though I don’t say much about the sea. A fellow can’t write intelligently about what he doesn’t understand. The only ships I ever saw were in Boston harbor when J lived there, _ and then I was too young to take much notice of them.” “How long did you live in Boston?” “T heard dad say that Boston was quite a place for literary people; but just the same there are more books, magazines and papers printed in New York.” “That's because, it’s a great deal bigger city than Boston, and might be: called the business center of the country. Near- ly all the ocean steamers sail from there, and a good part of the sailing vessels.” | “That's right. New York is the place, Anh my opinion, I've} beer ‘all over it and like it first rate.” “You might show me around it if you have time.” “Sure I will. We're bound to lay over Sunday at our Hast River pier. I'll show you all the eee: We'll make a whole “That will be dine: It will aes me a line on the city.” “Sure it will. Go on with your yarn.” Arthur went on and finished up to the point he had written. eee the rest is as good as what you have done, you ought to You gee, |’ It’s a heap better than] up he got used to it, though at no time - did his eee CHAPTER IX. IN NEW YORK. It was along about dark that the schooner dipped her nose into the Sound, and it was well into night when she moored alongside her wharf. Arthur was asleep forward at the time, ay he knew noth- ing about the arrival of the vessel at her destination. Next morning when he was aroused at six o’clock he saw where he was, The skipper had gone home, but Joe was on his usual job. Arthur helped him out and the two boys sat down with the one sailor and had breakfast together. By the time things were cleaned up the captain was down and then the center hatch was taken off and the unloading commenced, with all hands working, the captain bossing the operations. No sooner was the schooner cleared out than the fr eight in- tended for New York came along and they started to put it aboard. When work stopped at five, there was still more than half of the merchandise yet on the dock, covered with tarpaulins. Arthur had worked hard that day, and as he wasn’t used to such labor, he was sore in his muscles and dead tired. “You look all in,” grinned Joe, as they started to get, sup- per. “T’m kind of tired. the young author. “Driving a pen over paper is a whole lot easier, ain’t it?” “Very much so.” d “Tt isn’t so healthy, though. A fellow needs fresh air and exercise to keep in good shape.” : “A writer can get that if he goes and walks around an hour or two.” “Walking doesn’t get up much perspiration, except in hot | weather.” i “It's good exercise, though.” “T guess I’d sooner read books than write them. It must be hard work sometimes finding ideas to put into stories.” “T haven’t found it hard so far, ” said Arthur. “T should think you would in that story. You’ve only got one character so far, and he’s on an island hundreds of miles away from any place. How came you to think up all those curious things he’s run against so far? How are you going to explain what they are?. The story is interesting because you keep bringing something new in all the time. I'd like to read the whole story td see what those glowing eyes belong to. The explanation has got to come out in the end, and with it all I’m not used to this kind of work,” said the side issues, otherwise there’d be nothing to the yarn.” “Everything will be explained in its proper place,” said Arthur, “You must send me a copy when the story’ is printed.” “Tt might never be printed.” “Why not? As far as [ heard you read it, it’s first-class, in my opinion. If the rest of it is as good, it’s bound to be a go. If I like it, other people will like it. I guess itll be printed all right. ? When Arthur was routed out next morning he was stiff and sore in earnest. He might be compared to a ballplayer on the ore after the first spring training day. Almost every move he made pained him. He crawled out on deck and came face to face with Joe. “Holy smoke! You act as, if you had suddenly become an old man. Are you as bad as that?” “T can hardly get around.” “Yow ll have to work it off this morning.” “T don’t see how I can do a thing.” ( “It'll come hard, but work is the physic for you. there on the dock and run around a bit.” .. “J couldn’t run to gave my life.” “Yl bet if you were out on the plains with a bunch of In- dians after your scalp you’d run all right. Go on now, and exercise yourself before the old man turns up. There’s a lot Get out: of stuff to be got aboard yet, and it will take nearly all day to get it stowed away, so you’ye got to be on the job. I'll get — breakfast, and after you’ve jogged from the end of the wharf | to the street about fifty times, come aboard and set the table,” Arthur limped ashore and Atamed to exercise himself in the manner prescribed by Joe. It was a perfect martyrdom at first, but: as he got warmed and bod: 2 feel less sore. Fir ally a oe ahi him of ‘and sent him. into ‘the ‘cabin,
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Mies es tread its flagging. - » floor. FIGHTING FOR FAME, , Joe told his father how their new hand was pretty well | A good part of Arthur’s soreness had worn off, and he was bunged up by his unusual efforts of the previous day, so Ar- thur was favored after the daily routine of loading was re- sumed, It was a forenoon of suffering for him, but he stuck to his, work like a major, and did his best without a word of com- plaint. Things went better during the afternoon, and by half-past four the main hatch was put on, and the deck cleared up, which work fell to Arthur and Joe. Supper was then in order, and then the schooner left her moorings and started for the Sound. As the wind was good and she got a favorable slant, it didn’t take the vessel long to strike the Sound, and her head was then pointed westward. Arthur turned in about nine, and when he woke in the morning the schooner was nearing her pier on the Hast River front of the big city. As soon as she ‘was moored, breakfast was put on the table, and when it was over the skipper went off to report his ar- rival and arrange for getting out his cargo. As nothing was likely to be done till after dinner, Joe told Arthur he would show him over the lower part of the city. That suited the young author first-rate, and they started off. “This is South street,” said Joe, when they stepped into the street facing the piers. “The houses have an oldish look,” said Arthur, squatty.” “This is the old part of the town. around here have old-fashioned dormer windows on the top The floors are all low. That four-story building over _ there is hardly as tall as a modern three-story one: This is the shipping side of the city. The steamers come in on the west side along the Hudson River, and the railroad ferry* houses are over there, too. We'll get around there! after a while.” é “That's the Brooklyn Bridge,” said Arthur, pointing at the - big pier on his right, and the long span over the river. “Tt surely is. I’ll take you on it this evening,” said Joe, leading the way’ southward. Séuth street’ was full of loaded and empty trucks, passing tity “and look ' to and fro, and was a scene of great activity. -They crossed over to the sidewalk and walked along, Arthur taking in everything with an eager eye. He was actually in New York, the city he had longed to visit, ‘and his feelings can only be appreciated by one who has passed through a similar experience. They walked around the end of the city and struck Battery Park, or “The Battery,” as it is more often called. Being a fine, balmy, June morning, the benches were full of loungers—people who were unable to find work, as well as those who wouldn’t work if a job was handed to them on a silver platter. Of course, Arthur had heard a lot about the Battery, and had seen pictures of it, and it was a great delight for him toe Joe took him into the Aquarium in the old Castle Garden building, but they did not stay any longer than it took them to make a hasty round of the tanks. Lots: of the buildings fairly lively. bet After the supper dishes had been Cleaned up and put away, Joe and the young author started ‘for the entrance of the Brooklyn Bridge. They walked across the bridge and up the business section of Fulton street in Brooklyn. | On their return they rested a while in City Hall Parks and then went back to the schooner. Next day was Saturday, and they finished the unloading of the yessel that day. ‘ On Monday and Tuesday she was t0 take on a load for New Haven, and sail Tuesday evening. ; ; Sunday, therefore, was the only day the boys would have to themselves, and they determined to make the most of it. Joe was up first, and; going ashore, got a copy of two morn- }ing dailies, cach consisting of from forty to sixty pages of reading matter and:advertiséments, chiefly the latter. a Both papers contained hundreds of classified advertisements, and among these Joe thought his friend might find something to suit him, for it was necessary for. him to earn a living doing something while he was finishing his story. Joe looked over the news, then the baseball scores, and finally the comic supplements, and while engrossed with the last, Arthur came on deck. “Here’s two morning papers,” said Joe. ions containing the small advertisements. You'd better look over them while I’m getting breakfast. Cut out any adver- tisement. that strikes you, and you can call on the people ia- the morning. If you catch on, dad will, hire a man to take. your place at loading.” Arthur ran over the long list of help wanted, and he found several that appealed to him. One was an assistant wanted in the mailing daparinisnt of a publishing house, the applicant to apply in person at nine o'clock next’ morning. By the time Arthur had gone through the advertisements in both papers, breakfast was ready, and he dropped the papers to set the table in the cabin. Most of the advertisements he had picked out required that replies be sent care of a numbered box in the newspaper of fice. “4 “There’s the sec-.: his address as the, general delivery in the main Post-office. The two boys started out about nine o'clock, and on their way uptown Arthur left two of the letters at the newspaper office on Park Row, and mailed the others. They spent the whole day away from the schooner, the ecap- tain and his man taking their Sunday dinner at a restaurant on South street. They returned in time to get up a light supper, and being ME 2 after their sight-seeing, they turned in. early. ae ; CHAPTER X. : i ; ON TRIAL. The publishitig house that wanted an assistant malls clerk, was not far from Park Row, and Joe accompanied Arthur- there to make sure he reached the right place. ay It was a quarter past eight when they got there, and ave . 4, Then they took their way et West street, which bordered six applicants were in line. Hi country. w, the Hudson River. ‘This street, though wider than South street, was more con- ested with vehicles. loaded with goods en route for the dif- Kee European and coastwise steamship piers. While the piers on South street are open, like ordinary . wharves, those on West street are closed off by great freight - gheds, built over their entire length. : Joe took his companion up as far as Chambers street, into " which they turned and walked up to Broadway. “This is Broadway, and it runs as far as you can see, and a whole lot further. We'll eross over into City Hall Park. That big building blocking the way yonder is the Post-office. ' That squatty building in the park with the clock on top is the City: Hall, and it’s a pretty bum one for the biggest city in the Joe then pointed out the buildings on Park Row oceupied in “part by several of the big dailies. ‘hen each bought a paper of a newsboy to take back to the chooner, and then Joe took Arthur down Nassau street, into Wall and Broad streets, the region of tie) ely segapers. He showed him the Stock Exchange and other vildings of sie) finally got back to the vessel about. half-past | atch was 4 taken off, ae the unloading Arthur took his place in the line, and Joe left him. At a few minutes before nine the young chap at the head of the line was told to walk into a small office. By that time there were twenty in the line. : One by one the applicants were admitted and interviewed as — to their qualifications to fill the bill. rthur was the most gentlemanly and intelligent looking of. the lot, and took the eye of the boss of the mailing-room, but his qualifications were rather disappointing, as he had. had no experience whatever in a publishing house. & After questioning him closely, the*man said: x “You won’t do at all, young man, for the position in my department, but you might do upstairs in the editorial rooms. I heard this morning that an assistant is wanted by one of the editors. sey this young man up to Mr. Hall’s room. Tell him t sent h Among the numerous publications put out by the See w f ‘a sixteen-page weekly called “Young America, is devoted hid ‘boys’ stories, and Mr. Hall was the editor of it. Arthur was conducted to‘his office, a small room on the third floor, containing two desks, back to back, against a wil dow 435 looking out on a dingy and narrow court, ‘where the sunshine seldom penetrated, a table and some shelving filled with diver: blic s ins apparent, and in some cases actual », confusio These advertisements he answered after breakfast, giving - cs You might go up and ‘see him. Here, Tommy, sg
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. course of time. 14 - FIGHTING FOR FAME. SS eee aS eee Each desk had a pivot chair, and there were two others, one of which was overflowing with a miscellaneous assortment of papers and magazines. On the floor was a carpet worn threadbare, while the walls looked grim and smoky, and the bare spaces were ornamented with a file of the current volume of “Young America” and other things connected with the publication. Mr, Hall was at his desk looking over some page proofs of the forthcoming issue from the press, which was printed three weeks in advance of the date of publication, and smoking a cigarette. Tommy delivered his message and skipped. “Sit-down, I’ll talk to you in a moment,” said the editor to Arthur. A moment meant about fifteen minutes, during which Mr. Hall went out of the room with the proofs and came back without them. He took his seat at his desk, lighted a fresh cigarette, and lemked at. Arthur. “Your name is——” “Arthur Forbes,” said the boy, politely. “Have you had any editorial experience?” “None whatever,” replied the youthful author. ‘Hum! I’m afraid I can’t use you. I need an assistant to run the small departments, such as the ‘Items of Interest,’ ‘Ticklers, meaning jokes, ‘Hxchange’ Department, and the ‘Puzzler’s Budget.’ Also to pick out short paragraphs from newspapers and periodicals that will interest boys and submit them to my inspection. There are other duties connected with the position which it is unnecessary for me to mention now. To satisfactorily fill the bill ane needs experience.” Mr. Hall leaned back in his chair and puffed his cigarette. “T understand that, sir, but a person has got to learn before he can get the experience,” said Arthur. “Quite true, but I hardly think I can afford the time neces- sary to break you in. I intended to advertise for a capable young man. The job pays $12, with prospects of a raise in the I am sorry you haven’t some experience, for I like your appearance and manners. I'd be willing to make allowances, but as you are aheokaely deficient in editorial routine, WHY ‘ “T am sorry, sir, for I’d like to eat on @ boys’ paper. I’ve already written part of a boys’ story, which several of my friends have favorably criticised.” “Indeed! What’s the motif?” “T have it with me. If you would glance over a i tow pages you would be able to form an idea of its merit.” “Tl look at it. It may give mé a line on your abiitties in a _ general way.” _. Arthur unbuttoned his vest and produced the package con- taining his manuscript, which he handed to the editor, Mr. Hall opened it and glanced at the title. ‘Then he read the first page without difficulty, for Arthur’s penmanship was as clear almost as a typewriter. He read half way down the second page. “Ts this the first story you have written?” he said. ° “Yes.” “1 like your style,” he said; and you use simple words. “Ten chapters. P “You may leave your manuscript, with your address, and I will see how it pans out. If I think I can use it, when com- pleted, I will send for you and will then advise you as to length; and so forth.” ““T will leave it with you if you wish, but I have no address at present. I only arrived in the city last Friday, and I am stopping aboard the schooner I came on. I expect to hunt up a room somewhere this afternoon or to-night. The most im- “you have the proper swing, How much haye you got here?” aR BEERS BOTS SES ELT SIE EET SOE TT EM RT RT gM SPO) SE TG only by accident I have the manuscript. I brought nothing except what I stand in.” : The editor whistled and regarded Arthur curiously. “Did you run away from the farm?” “No, sir, I was run away with.” . “How is that?” : a young author told his story in as few words as pos- sible “You had quite an experience,” smiled the editor. “Well, T’ll tell you what I’ll do. As you appear to be a good writer, and would be handy to have around, I’ll give you a few days’ trial here. I'll explain what I want you to do, one thing at.a time, and show you how to do it if you don’t catch right on, and that will give you the chance to make good if it’s in you.” “T’m much obliged to you.” “As the current number is just out of my hands, I'll have a little time to-day and to-morrow to devote to you. You can take that desk. Put your hat on top of it. Take down that file of the paper hanging there and study its style. Pay par- ticular attention to the long and short miscellaneous para- graphs you will find, so as to get a line on the kind of material we use for them. Then look over the columns devoted to the departments. The jokes, you will notice, are all’connected in some way with young persons.. That’s the kind I shall require you to hunt up, clip out and paste on a sheet of paper, one under the other, with a short space between. The items of in- terest must all be short—from one to three or four lines. The Exchange notices are sent in to us by our readers, and fre- quently have to be boiled down; that is, abbreviated. In every case superfluous words must be cut out. The puzzles are also furnished by readers, but they have to be carefully, gone over with a view to their correctness, their adaptability, their nov- elty and their originality. You will find that the hardest de- partment to conduct; but if you measure up to my require- monts in the other particulars, we will edit the puzzles to- gether till you get the hang of what is wanted. Now sit down and take your time over the file.’ Give your attention wholly to the matters you will have to attend to, and nothing else.” ‘s Thus speaking, the editor returned to his desk, lighted another cigarette and, after looking at his watch, picked up Arthur’s manuscript and went on reading it, which showed that the first chapter had made a favorable “impression on him, and he wanted to see if what followed was treated f equally good style. Mr. Hall had had a long and varied experience with what 4 called juvenile literature, and could tell a promising story at a glance. The house bought available manuscript only from its regu- lar staff of writers, all of whom had years of experience behind them. It did not follow that everything they sent in on order was accepted. 4 ; Writers having a steady output not infrequently grow care- Jess, and this carelessness, which affects the standard of their product more or less, is immediately detected by the “reader” of the publishing house, or the editor, if he does the “read- ing” himself at first hand, and any noticeable falling away in the interest or technique of a. story leads to its return ‘to _ ; the author. Where the writer is a regular contributor the editor will accompany the manuscript with a note of explanation, which | in some cases takes the form of a “call down.” Hardly a week passed that Mr. Hall did not get we¥ehal files unsolicited manuscripts. F These, were immediately returned without inspection as un- available. & standing notice was printed at the head of the “Answers to Correspondents” column which stated that the paper printed only stories from its regular staff of COnUr TD aE portant thing, however, with me is to find a position, as I | and could not use others. have practically no money. ” P “vou are a stranger here, then?” . ew Yes.” “Where did you come from?” oS “A farm near the village o? Jinxville, in Massachusetts.” ; dinary for the editor to: give his time to Arthur's story, par- | - “You don’t look like a farm boy.” “Ym not. I was born in Boston, and when. my parents died I went to live with my uncle, who is a farmer. e gave mea high school education and intended to°make a surveyor of me. os I prefer authorship if I can make good at it.” - “So you came to New York to look for an opening, ) o Waa “Yes, sir.” , you for a while?” § | 1 4 didn’t have the chaace to ene anything. with me. Bi is a The titles of all manuscript received from fies damae. au- vee and declined were printed immediately under the no- tice Under these circumstances it was decidedly out of the or- ticularly as it was uncompleted, but the conditions surround- ing its receipt were unusual, and what was of more importance he had been struck by the ability shown by this new writer in his first effort. i It wasn’t that Arthur was a “fine writer,” though he Ration a remarkable command of rhetoric for one of his years and inexperience, ang his grammer was correct in the OER ORY 7 “why didn’t you bring sufficient money with you to carry sense. It was the way he handled his material. AS tis editor ae with it he ae tie admit: that the.” A Tc
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. ‘the editor, ean tackle this. batch of Exchange . notices. jltimob, 3 + # FIGHTING FOR FAME. Sa 45 best author they had had nothing on “the boy in this Tespect. Not a paragraph dragged. His sentences wére usually short and of varying length, and sounded euphonious—that is, pleasant to the ear. There was no “padding” or superfluous writing, for every- thing the young author had put down was necessary to the}. sense of the story. And-finaily there was an interest that gripped the reader at the start and held it. “Tt was this interest, as much as anything else, that made Mr. Hall continue the reading of the manuscript. So while Arthur sat at the other desk and carefully studied- the file of the “Young America” in order to master the re- quirements of the position he hoped to make good at, the editor turned over sheet after sheet of the boy’s story, and finally reached the point where it broke off. Then he rewrapped the manuscript, and put it on the top of his desk, and went on with other matters. CHAPTER XI. ARTHUR GETS A ROOM. At eleven o’slock the editor came around to Arthur’s desk. “You can lay that file aside now,” he said. “Go through those papers and periodicals on that. chair and cut out such paragraphs and jokes as you think we can use. Any paras graphs you entertain a doubt about blue pencil them and lay the paper one side for my inspection. I will examine your mwork after a while.” Thus Arthur received his first orders, and he proceeded to execute them to the best of his ability. At half-past twelve the editor told him he could go out to ~ lunch. “You're entitled to half an hour,” said Mr.' Hall, who then told him he would find several cheap lunch-houses on William street near by. Arthur put on his hat and went out. Mr. Hail sat down at his desk and looked over his work. He went over the twenty jokelets first and found that the young author had caught the idea right as far as they were concerned. Bvery one was available. Then he glanced through the paragraphs Arthur had cut out. They, too, were all right. “T believe he'll do after all,” thought Mr. Hall, blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke. “At any rate he seems to have got on to what we want.” Four periodicals lay near by with slips in them. The editor picked one up, opened it at the slip and saw a ; long paragraph blue penciled. ‘He noticed something, written on the slip. It was’ Arthur’s note and ran as follows: “Seems to be what you want, but may be too long, where it can be cut without spoiling the idea. Q.V.” Now Q. V. are the first letters of two Latin words, viz. “Quod vide.” meaning “which see,” and are used fr equently in works of reference. Mr. Hall recognized their meaning at once, and he looked *more closely at the paragraph, and saw that Arthur, who had TI see , used the abbreviation. from force of habit, had underscored cer- tain sentences lightly With a pencil. The boy had practically edited the long paragraph and im- proved it, a fact that Mr. Hall perceived at once. That one thing did more to satisfy the editor that Arthur would fill the bill than anything else. He cut out the paragraph and run his pencil through the sentences! as marked. f The other paragraphs were marked doubtful, and Mr. Hall- himself turned them all down. Then he returned to his desk well satisfied. At the end of thirty minutes Arthur came back. “T have looked over your work and find it all right,” said “The long paragraph would have gone through, but you have edited it to advantage. I think you will pan out, Arthur, and I am glad of it for I like you, and J’d rather | have you, here than the average run of young fellows who would be likely to answer my advertisement. After observing’ what you did with the paragraph I think you will be able to handle the Exhange column and the Items of Interest all right. As to the puzzles we’ll handle them between- us until you catch the idea. You can finish the papers, and then paste the clippings on sheets of that manilla paper, Tm cebing.: ba think? After ‘that you | move somewhere else as soon as I get familar with the city.” r Dg: Arthur was pleased to death at the editor’s words. His chances of holding the job had gone up 100 per cent. Then it was possible that his story, when he had finished it, might go through, too. He didn’t know what he would get for it, but he was sure he would be paid enough to put him on Hasy street, not speaking of his $12 a week salary, which was twice as much as he had expected to get out of his first job. Mr. Hall before he went out walked upstairs and saw one of the proprietors of the house. He told him he had secured an assistant who he bélieved was much above the average. He mentioned Arthur’s literary ability as evidenced by the part of a boys’ story he had submitted for inspection, and he said he intended to use it in the paper if it turned out good all the way through. The proprietor nodded and then the editor went into the cashier’s room.and handed him a slip on which he had written Arthur’s name and the wages. “What's his address?” asked the cashier. “He's going to move. TH send it up wheg he lets me know.” Then the editor went to lunch. , When five o’clock came Arthur was told that his work was over for the day. “Our office hours are from nine till five,” said Mr. Hall. “Here is your story.. You ean finish it, with a view to its being accepted if it maintains its interest to the end. Our stories are published in three-chapter instalments, to run thirteen issues, the last instalment to‘’be one chapter. The idea is to have each instalment end with a situation that will arouse curiosity as to what follows. So far you have acci- dentally hit! that requirement. Continue it, though the twelfth instalment need not follow the rule. If I take your story you will receive $125 on publication of the first instal- ment. Good-night.” Arthur found his way back to the schooner all right, and he was smiling all over when he encountered Joe, who was washing up after his day’s exertions. “Hello, Arthur, you must have caught on,” said Joe. “We looked for you to come back and when you didn’t dad hired a longshoreman to fill your place.” ‘ “I’m glad he did, for I’ve got a job on trial which I think ll hold,” replied Arthur. “Mailing papers?” “No. I was turned down on that, but the man sent me up- stairs te one of the editors who needed an assistant, and he took me on trial. The chances are in my favor. What do you The house publishes a boys’ story paper, and I’m on that.” “You don’t say. That’s great luck for you.” “J should say so. And the editor read what I’ve written - of my story, and he likes it. He gave me instructions how to finish it, and said if he took it he would pay me $125 when he began printing it.” “Gee! You’ll be rich in no time. you going to get?” “Twelve dollars a week.” ‘ “You've struck the sunny side for fair. You didn’t, make any mistake in taking my advice and coming to New York.”. “T admit it, and I won’t forget what you’ve done for me. T’ll make it all right with you as soon as I can.” re “Don’t worry about making it right with me. How much wages are Just send me the paper when your story comes out, and send me any- bi , thing else you write.” “T’li do that sure. for me. city.” '“You’ll see me, bet your life. Now Snow about your lodg- | ings? You can stay aboard the schooner to-night, but we sail to-morrow evening. I guess we’d better go hunt up a place this evening after supper. in the morning?” “Nine o’clock.” “And you quit at five?” “Yes,” “Those are good hours. the city you want to get a room near Broadway or ‘the Third ‘or Sixth avenue elevated roads. The Third avenue will be. < the most convenient for you, for a City Hall train will Jand- you close to where you work.” “That will be the best. If I don’t like the house at can ai And I want’ to see you wee time you come to the 2 “Sure, You can move any time.” : : ee told itera Bridge at ne supper ces? about his” Write down your address in New Haven xy When do you have to get to work cy ees Now as you are not familiar with — sat Do. a Mee Poe Ae! he Ks; " ‘aS 2 Re ar
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. a iy Ee 16 _TiGTHTS ‘¢ FOR FAME. 5 4 him on. securing ‘a satis- job, and the skipper congratulated factory position so soon. ; After supper he paid him for his services on the schooner, and loaned him $5 in addition to help him along. “You'll need it before you get paid, for you will have to get yourself some things you nged right away.” “You haven't deducted the money you loaned me to buy the shirt and collay I have on’and the new tie,” said Arthur; ‘“T'll make you a present of them,” said the good-natured skipper. “You can return that $5 the next time you see me. We may be back here with a load in a week. There's no telling.” . “I’m greatly obliged to you, Captain Bridge," said Arthur, gratefully. “Don’t mention it. Happy to do you a service. you'll write to your unsle now?” “I wili just as soon as I'm positively certain about my fod. ~ I hope he’ll send me my oe unk. He might be too mad to do: Lust _ “If I got the chanee I’d run up to Northville on the train, and bring if down jto the schooner with me. That would} “save you the express charges,” said Joe. “We are liable to “have a loadyup the river any ‘time.” “That would be fine. I'll give you an order on my wthele for itso you could get it, and I’ll pay your expenses.” . “Pay nothing. It wouldn’t cost much, and dad would stand for AG; Q “But you and your father have already done a great deal ' for me.”" “We've only given ‘You a little lift, and we believe in help- ing people who deserve it,” Supper being over, they cleared away, and then Joe lodlied the morning paper over under “Rooms to Let” for something. that would suit Arthtr near Third avenue. : He cut out several and they went uptown and ingked at three places. _ The last house they visited suited Arthur the. best. ‘It was kept by an English widow named Caxey. ' “She supported herself by letting eta ead to single eattes men. " a: Hey house was on’a side street just west of Third BNERUG: “near en elevated station. She was, stout, middle-aged and good-natured, and spoke with a cockney accent. ) ght ‘She offered a neat back hall-room to Arthur for $1. 50 ‘a week 7 in advance. “T’ll take it, ma’am,” said the young author. “I don’t think I could do better. I can’t give you any reference as Vm 8 , stranger in the city.” ; i “Bless you ‘eart, your face is reference enough for. me. °, EY can see you’re a hout and hout young gent, and them’: 11:6 kind I, want, but don’t halways get. The gent who hoceatied. » this room lawat ‘ad no conscience. ’H paid me honly one week's rent when ‘e took the room, which ’e ’ad to do to \ get in. After that I couldn’t get a penny hout of ’im, and 1 ‘ad to put ‘im hout in the hend. Hit’s a cryin’ shame that , ‘a lone widow woman should be so himposed upon.” ma’am, it is. You'll get your rent regularly from I suppose - ea ain at § Wench said Arthur. : ep sure I will. I like your face, though, to be sure, you -cawn't judge every person by ‘is face. Mrs. Jones, whose usband is hon the Hiland for non-support, told me that tart ‘the faces in the epee $s Gallery look like ministers. Ah, me, ‘it’s a hawful world, Mr—— what did you say your name, was?” . “Arthur Forbes. : : ‘Harthur! A ne) name and hit’s happropriate to you, “There as a king in Hingl@md once by that name hif my memory} pate me right, who used to heat hoff a round table, which |. as hit was spoke hoff in ‘istory must ’ave been somethin’ “hout | hoff the common. Hif you’ll come downstairs bI’ll ‘and you receipt for your first week’s rent and the latch key. 80. you. van get hin hat any time, though I ‘ope you keep good ho rs, not that hi’ll ’ave anythin’ to say hif you don’t, seein’ as oo. ced’ in a milinery store on Tihrd ayenue. | lur got the receipt and ‘the latch key, and then é ady's name and the number of the hou 12 of the: street. before nine. “my business,” said the widow, leading the way to | up showed an excess, and told him to ¢ ent where she held forth herself with a pretty niece: / short story to even up the last column. © ‘ i ‘That was easy for him to do. e Se “Oh, ['ll-have no trouble, ma’ am, I’ll be here to-morrow night a ; “You can send your trunk and.-hi’ll look after hit, and ‘ave hit put in your room,” said the Widow Caxey, as she let them out the area door. Arthur smiled and Joe gr inned at the mention of the trunk. Then they started back for the schooner. CHAPTER XII. ARTHUR’S FIRST STORY IN PRINT. Arthur held up his end all right next day at the publishing house, and at five o’clock he rushed down to the schooner to have supper with Captain Bridge and his son and bid them ood-by. eo The schooner pulled out at nine o'clock, when the tide changed, and Arthur watched her sails till they vanished up } the river. Then he made his way to the City Hall elevated station and ‘took a train uptown. f He got out at the right station and had no difficulty im go- ing straight to Mrs, Caxey’s house. He let himself in with a latch-key and walked up to his room. The widow, who was evidently on the watch, came up a few minutes later and knocked on his door. i “Come in,” ‘said Arthur. ; “HI came hup to tell you that your trunk didn’t come, Mr, Harthur,” said the landlady after wishing him good-evening. “I didn’t expect it, ma’am. It’s'at my uncle’s farm in ie ‘chusetts, and it may be a week or more before I get it,” plied the young author. “You'll be hat a great hincdnvenience without hit. you bring nothin’ hat all with you?”,said the lady, about the room for a suitcase. “No, ma’am, not a thing. My departure vo sudden: and quite unexpected,” ; “’Ow are you goin’ to get along without a change of clothes Me till you get your trunk?” tis “Tm going to buy what I need. They'll come in handy, any-- way, even after I get my trunk,” said Arthur, with a smile. ~~ Mrs. Caxey was silenced, and she went downstairs; but though she had taken a fancy to the young author, the ab- sence of a trunk, or even a suit-case, in the new lodger’ $ room, got on her nerves, for she considered ita Shaeieey circum- stance. Still,.she had to admit that it was no worse than a trunk filled with a collection of bricks. j This was a misfortune she had éncountered more sia once, Didn't { peer aS and a new lodger never came into her house Ow. that she. ie didn’t try to test his baggage in some way. — Unconscious of the cloud he had cast over the landlady's | z mind, Arthur went to bed, and at seyen next morning: he was up and out looking for a restaurant. You don’t need a inn to find one on “Third avenue, and — long before eight he ‘had put himself outside a meal. - To kill time he walked down as far as the Ninth street sta- tion, oe There he boarded a train nad reached the office at a quarter in That day he and’ the editor tackled the puyzles. and rade short work of them. The proof of the correspondent column ‘when pasted in plawe ‘| ;on the dummy ran a couple of inches shy, and Mr. Hall passed i the job of filling the space over to his new assistant. The editor told him to allow for the stereotyped line, “Sev- eral communications left over to be answered -in aur next, a ’ Arthur thought that was funny, seeing that there were not. ‘enough communications on hand to fill UP; jrut he scala bet- / ter than te seek ai explanation. — ‘ : He picked up an English boys’ paper,. turned: to the pots ¢ , Tespondence column and, calculating the difference in the | , of the type, he cut out enough to fill Pye vacancy. é Then the editor handed him a page dummy where the nee aes enough from, i When the dumniy ees were. re dy Be was sent to t) a, ‘th x for the first. teh mat on, a ch type matte’ half. ad rr gan
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| FIGHTING FOR FAME. . 17 le eB, He went down im the basement and asked Mrs, Caxey if she i could lcan him a small table to write on. : She had a small table and she let him have it.‘ ; That evening he wrote Chapter XI., and began the next one. He put in Thursday ard Friday evenings in the same way,’ and quit at the end of the fourteenth chapter. 3 Two new characters had come into his story—a boy and a girl froma dismantled wreck, brought there by a gale which he had worked up to get them on the scene. Then he figured out how he should end the next chapter, noted it down on a slip of paper, wrapped his work up in its covering, and stowed it under his mattress, as he had no other place to put it. At noon next day he received his first pay envelope, and found the expected $12 in it. He looked at it several times before quitting time came at ene, for it was the first money he had ever earned. He spent the afternoon working on his story, and had started on the sixth instalment when he was interrupted by a knock on the door, It was Mrs. Caxey with a letter for him. The letter was post-marked from New Haven, and Arthur knew it was from Joe. The landlady viewed the pile of manuscript with a curious eye. ; . \ “Beggin’ your. pardon, Mister Harthur, but might I hawsk what hall that writin’ is about?”, : “That, ma’am, is a continued story I'm writing for the pub- lication I am connected with,” answered the boy: “Are you a hauthor, sir?” looking doubtfully at her young lodger. “Tm trying to be.” ; “Hive ’eard that hauthors ’ave a ‘ard time of hit.” “Tt is something of a struggle to secure recognition.” i “Hi ‘ad a hauthor in my square front room one time, and ‘e was halways* writin’ just as you are now. ‘EH told me that some day ‘is’ mame would hoccupy a niche in the Temple of ame. If I ‘ad my way ’is face would hoceupy a niche in the Rogues’ Gallery, for *e ’ooked hit harfter standin’ me hup for three weeks’ rent. HI ’ope you're goin’ to get paid for hall j . that work, for hif you was to ’éok it I wouldn’t ‘ave no con- i fidence in nothin’,” said Mrs. Caxey. é . “Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll never cheat you out of a cent.” i “You ain’t ’eard nothin’ from your trunk, ‘ave you?” “You remember the boy who called with me when T took this room?” “T remember ’e had a face the color hof leather. What habout ‘im?” fied “This letter is from him. He writes that he’s foing after 4 my trunk in a day or two, and that. the schooner will bring it to New York some time next week, provided he gets it.” Hie ATO. dsaiion?” 2 » “Ayfresh, water one,” ON a ay ‘ . “TY ’ad a nephew once who was sailor. ’H was a ’orrible ex- ample, ’e was, which I ‘ope you'll hexcuse me expressin’ my- self so plainly, but-———” ; “T beg your pardon, Mts. Caxey, but as I’m busy this after- noon, I'd consider it a favor if you'd withdraw,” said Arthur. “HPm a-goin’. Hif you’ want anythin’ in partic’lar, just - *holler down hover the banisters and HT’ll ‘ear you,” said Mrs. - Caxey, reluctantly edging toward the door. sf : ““T dont think T’ll need anything, ma’am.. Good-afternoon.” Good-hafternoon, Mister Tarthur,” and she went out, but _. she immediately opened the door again, and, sticking in her _ head, said: “Hif you should want a glawss of water, HIM be jappy to——” Pa eae i “Thank you, ma’am, but I’m not thirsty.” The door closed once more and he heard her retreating foot- steps on the stairs, much to his relief. Then he finished Joe's letter and went on with his story. He didn’t do any writing that evening, believing he was entitled to a little recreation, and he went to a nearby theater. _. He spent the whole of the following morning walking about the city, and then he put in the afternoon on his manuscript, reaching the end of Chapter XVII. i ‘ ' - On the following Thursday he received a brief visit from ‘Joe at the office. eet ; _ “Yye fetched your trunk, and it’s aboard the schooner., I had some trouble in persuading your uncle to let it go. He was mad at you for running away, as he called it, but I told him that your leaving home was an accident. I explained how we found you floating down the river on a -nnd carried you to New York. He wanted. : ome home instead of sending for ‘ said Arthur, wishing the lady would r trunk, and ‘told him the reason was because you had collared a fine job at $12 per week, with prospects of a raise, and you had con- cluded to stay where you were. Then he read your letter over again, and let me have your trunk.,. He said he hoped you'd do well and leave writing nonsense alone, for, he said, writers, as a rule, didn’t amount to shucks.” “Tm glad you got my trunk. If you have the time I wish you'd have it sent up. to my lodgings,” said Arthur. $ “Tll do that,” said Joe. “How are you getting on?” “Wirst rate.” “Glad to hear it. Come down and have supper with us to- - night,” “T will, Same wharf?” : ; “Yes. We always come in at the same place. How’s the story progressing?” “T've got twenty chapters written.” “How many more are you going to have?” “Seventeen.” Cae “It will be a good-sized yarn. Hurry up and finish it. Tf want to see it in print.”* ‘4 “Tam not certain as yet that it will get into print.” “Why not? You're right here in the office and have a pull with the editor.” - “That's all right.. But the story has got to measure up to the standard of the paper in eyery respect or it won’t be taken.” ~ When he left the office that afternoon, Arthur went down: to the schooner and greeted Captain Bridge. * He returned the $5 loan, and thanked the skipper for allow- ing his. son to go to his uncle’s farm after his trunk. He wanted to pay the cost of Joe’s trip, but the skipper wouldn't hear of it. The schooner remained over till Tuesday, and during that time Arthur did nothing on his story. With the arrival of his trunk at. his lodgings, all Mrs. Caxey’s fears vanished, particularly as she found no trouble ~ in getting her second and third weeks’ rent money, and she told her niece that she was “proud to ’ave such a nice young ) gent in her’ ’ouse.” With the departure of Joe and the schooner, Arthur ap- plied himself with fresh energy to his story, and inside of ; three weeks he finished it to his satisfaction and handed it in \ to Mr. Hall, : A week later he was informed that the story was accepted and: would be used right away. Soites : ‘Two weeks later the editor showed him a full-page drawing, — representing an ingident taken from the first instalment of his story, which was to ornament the first pdge of “Young America,” * It afforded him a feeling of pleasure and exultation that | was never equalled by the pictures that embellished his sub- bi sequent stories. j ‘ Whe first instalment was duly put in type, and he had the /fimst glimpse of it en the dummy make-up. During the following week he saw the second. full-page illustration, which also went on the front page of the second issue of his story. : ni Two half-page illustrations followed on an inside page of the third and fourth numbers—each serial published having four pictures. : ( Most of the stories in “Young America” appeared under the. real names of their authors, though some were published under — noms de plume. f Several of these authors were the foremost writers of juve- 5 nile fiction in the country—three in particular having from.‘ thirty to perhaps a hundred bound books on the market. They received four times the price for their stories that Arthur got when the number containing his first instalment was issued to the public. Be ale tar That was because their names largely helped to sell the papers containing their stories, and imparted a tone to the publication. : “Y raft, took you off} For one reason or another it would drop off, in sp to know why you]t ritér’ ut I’ sudden oR The price Arthur got was the ordinary established figure paid to the staff authors, and these writers furnished, as a rule, as good stories as the higher priced men, but only one of them received special recognition tn the way of pay. Tn the editor’s opinion he was the boss ‘writer on the paper, but it was not the editor’s opinion but the returns from th news companies which counted. cpio aM Ayia he yak _ More papers were printed and sold when a story by a bi ) writer was started, though the output did not always keep |pace with the running of the story... Warts tah he My ioe on nee the slump was -attributed + of i pry nterest in his atOry, 9 \. |:
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J 18 FIGHTING Nieoe FAME. CHAPTER XIII. SUCCESS. Ordinarily, Arthur’s story wouldn’t have appeared so soon after its acceptance, for the stories by the staff authors ap- peared in regular turn, just as first string pitchers are worked in a league ball team. The paper’s schedule as to continued stories was made up weeks ahead, though it was subject to changes with respect to the book authors, who were autocrats in their way, with presumedly fat bank accounts, and ‘they did not always con- sider it necessary to come to time. A contract had been entered into weeks before with a cer- tain well-known juvenile writer for a new story, with the understanding that it was to appear at a certain time. As this man always kept his engagements, arrangements Were made in accordance with the terms-of his contract. . Before he was half through with, the story in question, he was taken seriously ill and ordered to Europe. He wrote a note to the publishers of “Young America” eancelling his agreement, but the note was not received. About the time Arthur was finishing up his story, the edi- tor wrote the author at his usual home address, requesting that he forward his manuscript at once, or the bulk of it, if he hadn't finished it. After some delay, Mr. Hall received word from his secretary that the author was ill in Europe and he was doing nothing ip the writing line. Another of the book authors was at once communicated with,/and asked if he had anything on stock that he could swing to “Young America.” \ The author replied that he was writing a book for a certain . Publisher, and he couldn’t furnish anything at that time. The editor then fell back on the pile of heme: from his staff writers. Most of these had already been allotted’ certain rata ahead for reasons, and the editor did not care, nor was it really nec- essary, to disturb the schedule, since there were several manu- scripts that could be used as a filler-in. At ne aaa Arthur turned in his story. Mr. I had forgotten about it, but it immediately struck him that this was as good a time as any to use the story of a / new writer. He ran over the rest of. the manuseript, found that it’ was even better than the first part, and announced it in the fol- lowing terms: e. '“A real treat coming! Week after next we shall print the opening chapters of a splendid serial called ‘Marooned on Mys- ‘tic Isle; or, Finding a Buried Treasure,’ by a new author, whom you aré bound to like. This is a story that will grip you. Look out for it!” A month later Arthur’s story came out on the news-stands, The first creation of his fancy was actually in print, and the young author felt as if he were treading on air. He hastened to mail a copy of it to Joe Bridge, a second copy to Bob Smiley, whom he had already advised by letter to look for it, a third copy to a girl friend in Jinxville, and a fourth to his aunt. Although there was no magic in Arthur’s name as an author, the story caught on owing to its gripping interest, and the returns from the news companies dwindled down with respect to the numbers containing the opening instalments of the story. ‘Calls for extra copies.came in, and all the reserve sttnale was sent out. The head of the publishing house naturally took notice, for the reports from the news companies each week came under his eyes. In this case the head of the house sent for the editor of ~“Young America.” This happened about the time that the issue containing the 2 ffth bine of Arthur’s story was getting on the news- stands. “TI notice a falling off in the returns on ‘Young America,’ ” he said. “Have you heard ae ne about it from the stock room?”, “No, sir, but we have received a tnitan of letters from our readers praising our new. writer’s story. That is an indica- tion that it appears to be giving satisfaction, but is no guide to a possible increase in our readers. We may infer, how- ever, that we are temporarily selling a few more copies of the paper,” said Mr. Hall. After some further talk on Fes subject the editor returned # his den. During that week all mail orders for the papers containing the first two instalments of Arthur’s story were held up pend- ing the receipt of the next week’s returns of “Young America,” which would have to be sorted over for the numbers in de mand because there were no more copies in the stock room to send out. Another call for the papers came from the news company, and the stock man not being able to meet it, had to report the matter to the head of the house. It was finally decided to take a chance on reprinting one or two thousand copies from the plates. The foreman of the press-room was called in. “He said his presses were all engaged, but by working the self-feeder on which the “Young America” was printed at stated times overtime that evening, he could get the current edition out of the way so that he could use the machine next forenoon for the purpose required. He received instructions to-do so. The necessity for reprinting any issue containing ‘the open- ing chapters of a story by any author on the “Young America” had not happened for more than a year, and the fact was nat- urally noted. At any rate, Arthur received an order from the editor for another story, and he was asked to get it in as soon as he could. He was not told, however, that his first story, then running,’ had produced any effect. An old writer receiving an order couched in the same strain, would have had his suspicions of the truth, though it doesn’t follow he would have been right. “What kind of a story do you want?” Arthur asked Mr. Hall. “Make it an adventure story. I’ll give you one of our bound volumes to take home. You had better read up the stories of —, here he mentioned the name of the author that he considered the best in the business. (“His stories in that line are’ the best we hayé printed. They always sell.” Five weeks later Arthur handed in his second story, after submitting the first instalment for the editor’s inspection and being told to go ahead. Long before that the fact had been definitely settled that Arthur’s first story had caught the readers of “Young Amer- ica.” Scores of letters draabing the story, and other Jettera later | asking when another story by the same writer would appear, had been received by the editor. This was pretty good evidence that the next ate would be looked for, when it was announced. Arthur’s second contribution came up to snuff, “and the editor announced it in place of another which had been sched-. uled, and which consequently would have to take a back seat. The publisher took a chance on a slightly larger edition, thereby placing the new writer in the class with the book ‘ authors, and the story sold up to the requirements. Believing that.it would, Arthur was told to write another. This third one proved to be a hummer, and had to be re- printed to supply the demand. So Arthur got his fourth order. Summer had come around again, and he had been a year as ie % the editor’s assistant. He had over $400 in bank, with every prospect of adding steadily to it. He got a two weeks’ vacation, and he spent it on the Clay- pole farm. The success Arthur had met with as a writer upset all of Caleb’s preconceived ideas on the subject of authorship, and he took water and his hat off to his nephew at the same time. While there he learned that his uncle Silas, under another name, was running a successful grain and feed store in Well- ington, Canada, had got married, and might be said to have reformed all his old ways, but, of course, he was liable to ar-' rest if-he returned to the States and was recognized as an escaped convict. The struggles of the young author for recognition being happily over, the field was open for him to continue fighting oe for fame. oe _ Next week’s issue will contaim “STOCKS AND BONDS; OR, THE FIRM WITH A GRIP ON THE MARKET,” A Wall Street Story, ‘ an + ae ¥ S. ee ey et] SEND POSTAL FOR OUR FI rs ae ooh, ‘ a i % a
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‘+ FAME According to a consular report, M. Gaston Bonnier has| submitted to the National Agricultural Society of Paris samples of a new vegetable ivery made from the albumen of the fruit of a certain small palm, of the genus Hyphene, growing in the forests of the French Sudan. The product is said to resemble strongly that of the or- dinary ivory-nut (Phytelephas macrocarpa) of South America. The nut of the doom-palm ( Hyphene the- baica) has long been used tor making rosaries and small ornaments, / Construction’ of the most. powerful wireless station. in the world was to begin last week at Honolulu. It is the mid-Pacifie station of the Marconi system, and when fin- ished is to send messages 6,000 miles and more to the next station, which will be built in the Philippine Islands. Three 500 horsepower eléctrical units will supply the power. The building of the new station is the first. step by the Marconi system’ in its plan to cross the Pacific from: California to the Philippines, to Hong Kong, to . Bangalore, India; to Aden, to Cairo and to England. Communieatien is now regularly in service from the Mar- coni station near San Francisco with the Hawaiian Islands. Harold F. MeCormick’s costly station at Cicero, Ill., maintained for testing methods of aeroplane construction, has been ‘closed. Some of the equipment, which can he used for hydro- -aeroplanes, is being shipped to the MeCor- mick Lake Forest home. The rest is being sold, and it is believed that this ends the-efforts made by Mr. McCor- . mick for the last two years to produce an aerial machine that would be safer and more efficient than any model heretofore evolved. It is estimated that $50,000 has been spent at the experiment station in the two years of its existence. On one design alone, the machine which has _ become known as. the. prabrella plane, $25,000 was spent. ‘This plane was constructed in the belief that its stability could be maintained automatically. Mr, McCormick is a : Fon -in-law of John D. Rockefeller, © = Es in the squirrel population. : oy ap eae Tost, dren chee. wee Los Angeles, Cal., ‘troubled with squirrels in his orchard, as were several was neighboring ranchers, and all petitioned the county super- visors to send them some squirrel poison with the official stamp affixed to guarantee its genuineness. A large quan- tity of the poison was received and the more the rodents ate the better they liked it, for there were no fatalities “The other day, as Mr. Jost entered his barn, he was horrified to find a swarthy Mex- ican lunching out of the poison box, The man had eaten several henditis before being discovered, and the. rancher decided that the next move would be to call the under- taker. However, the Mexican showed no ill effects, but passed. his plate for more. The ranchers have concluded that either the ‘Mexican has a cast iron stomach, or the aoe ie weak. : AND FORTUNE WEEKLY, CURRENT NEWS a! aibiby of. the heartw ood of the trees, Perique, a unique sort of tobacco raised in this country, is limited in quantity, and the district producing it is confined to a small section of St. James Parish, on the east side of the Mississippi River, Louisiana. The total pro- duction is about 200,000 pounds a~year. This tobacco is perfected by, an involved method of sweating and curing, which was developed by the Arcadians of St. James Par- ish. When picked, the tobacco is stemmed and rolled into loose twists which are placed under pressure until the juices are forced out and the leavés become black and sticky. These juices in the “working” are reabsorbed, and during this process rum is blown into the mass. It is finally stored to cure, and at the end is of peculiar strength, with a characteristic aromatic odor. It is used in cigarettes, pipe mixtures and for chewing, and some Tmantfacturers insert a few strands in cigars to give them fragrance, In a statement issued the other day the. Secretary of War upholds Colonel Clarence P.. Townsley, superintend- ent of the Military Academy at West Point, in punishing eighteen cadets found guilty of hazing, and roundly criti- cises cadets for complaining about the punishment meted : Secretary Garrison says that there was un-_ doubtedly a violation of the regulations and- that4he pun- — out to them. ishment imposed was not too severe. In fact, there was some doubt if it was severe enough. No further action will be taken by Mr. Gatrison anleds the cadets themselves make action necessary by continuing to agitate the matter., If they do it is highly probable that courts martial will follow. *T am extremely regretful that these boys should have writ- ten winning letters to their parents or others,” said Secre- — tary Garrison. ‘‘The first element of manliness is to take your medicine like a man, particularly ina case where your own conduct has brought cn the illness.” Prof. J. A. Ferguson, of the Pennsylvania State Gol- ‘lege, reports a curious ‘phenomenon connected with the Cay- * ities near. the base of the trees are often found to contain cutting of hardwood trees in the Ozark Mountains. gas. When these cavities are cut into by the oak tie eut= ters of the region the gas escapes with a whistling sound, showing it to be under pressure, and if lighted it will burn with a “faint yellow flame. seared with a hot iron. The popular belief of the district is that. these trees are connected through their roots with a subterranean supply of natural gas, and the land on An examination of the gas collected from a cottonwood tree was made by — Prof. Bushong, of the University of Kansas, and it. Was _ found to be substantially the samg as natural gas with — Prof. Fergnson be- Ds: which they grow is valued accordingly. the addition of some free hydrogen. jieves, however, that this gas is the product Ra decompo The sides of the cavities con- taining gas are in all eases darkened and look as though —
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20 FAME AND FORTUNE WEEKLY. AN IRISH ROBINHOOD R, THE HEROES OF THE BRIDGE By GASTON GARNE 3 (A SERIAL STORY) CHAPTER I (continued) - . “Do not mind him,” whispered that friend, “as he is not as rude as he appears,” “Yes, I am, and: ten times worse, as you will soon find out,” cried the strange man, who led the way through the ceege “Follow me, now, or the English hounds will cateh you.” They were soon plunging into the very thick of the for- est, the stranger leading the way, the lad following, and the young student bringing up the rear, while ‘the English foes were lefi far behind, When they reached a small opening on the bank of the Shannon, the rough guide drew up suddenly and ad- - dressed the student, saying: eo “Young man, what is your name? iff “Charles De Courcey, friend.” ‘Si “So far so good. What name does your brave com- _ panion bear?” . “He is my cousin, and he is known as Magnus Fite: iv _ gerald, sir.” “That won't do. You may ford the stream, De Coureey, but Magnus Fitzgerald will not reach Athlone this night.” let the boy cross the stream,” cried the outlaw, as; he grasped the large bow slung over his back. * ost name, young man, and we will see what can be done. a “How would Una suit?” asked: the student, in pleading i ONES, goat well. . x e ‘Berca: looking aillens and his two companions were | was somewhat advanced in years, but his Lisper eyes. tidand that a covered his entire face. ‘panta ons made of the roughest homespun material, a ep-skin cap covered his bushy head, while his arms of the 1 tage DON, a lot of arrows sue ina as “Tf Barney of the Bow is to the fore and he refuses to} “Change the} The lad will cross the wr with you. Out} seer, seta Soy ea at a ge about oe -five wild] , and pith iba: arms sonetiing sioaeh to his. sete Mhe leader of the outlaws was. dressed in a jacket and safe. | while the student watched the stranger with | eager eye Black F orest of Germany or in the deep woods of England. The followers of the outlaw were all in keeping with their leader, as far as appearance went, while some of them bore old guns or pistols instead of the ancient bow. One of the first to appear at the leader’s call was a huge. fellow who stood a full head and shoulders above any of the others. The giant was known in the band ag Fingal, and he was second in command. At the order of the leader ‘several of the outlaws set about preparing an evening meal, while the two travelers dismounted and seated” themselves. on the banks of the stream. Barney of the Bow kept aloof fee his guests while the meal was in preparation, but when it was all ready he ad- vanced toward them and called out, in gruff tones : Extends from Dunleary, come and eat before the jour- ney.’ } ure I sup w ith you?” cried a deep, musical voice, as a horseman rode in among them from the wood. The leader of the outlaws ttrew his bow on the instant, and aimed at the stranger, crying: “Stand and give the word, or Pil send a shaft into ae brain.” i “The Bridge of Athlone,” need the strange, Wa springing from his horse. CHAPTER IT. THE OUTLAW SPEAKS HIS MIND. When the young lad heard the stranger’ sit the: Coys 5 ered his face with his hands and turned to his: friend, saying: os “Tn merey get me away r from ne, as that, is. the very. man I far.” “Don’t fear, as he aks not know ‘you, i am sure. seated and listen, x tb ie & om” by" ean Tt iss growing dark: and you will be We cannot getaway now.” ~The pair did listen, the lad edu iy, face ee a4 cpa Stranger was a tall man of noble’ bearing, who. + srbiich consi sisted of bre st pl te the 8 andy Je
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_ Bridge of Athlone.” ~ from me that I am not his lave. against the English invaders; yet I will never raise my : ‘tand, in his behalf, against a trae son or daughter of Brin. P. Do you understand ? Ha shee ba “plain enough, indeed. Were I to tell you that ‘the persons in question are fugitives, from sie ‘what FAME AND FORTUNE WEEKLY. 21 “ On springing from his horse, the stranger matical to the leader of the outlaws in a fearless manner, saying: “Am I addressing the man who is known as Barney of }- the Bow?” “You are, sir. May I ask who you are?” “T am a messenger from General St. Ruth, and I am| known as Captain Jason.” “What is the general’s pleasure with me?” “He expects all brave men and true to defend the “We will dé our duty in that regard. expects ?” “He expects that you will ‘stop all travelers coming from the Hast and bring them to him in Athtone.”: On hearing this order the outlaw turned his eyes to where the travelers had been ‘seated, and he noticed that they had disappeared, while he replied: “How can the general expect us to defend. the bridge and watch for travelers as well?” “The bridge will not be assailed until to-morrow or, next day. General St. Ruth expects two travelers from ‘Dublin to-night, and you must secure them for him.” “What are they like?” “One is a tall young soldier and the other is a fafr young girl. The general has information that they will attempt to cross the river for Aughrim to-night.” “Are they Shemies of the cause?” “Tt is enough for you to know that General St. Ruth desires to see them in his custody in Athlone’? . “J never had the pleasure of meeting the noble St. Ruth, but he is well aware that 1 am pledged to fight with him |* against our English enemies only.” “Then I am to understand that you, reftise to serve him as he commands?” i You are, if he’ cone me to seize true ‘tenets: of Treland.” “Beware, Sir Outlaw, fail you nies the vengeance of ¢ St. Ruth. ” > The outlaw burst out into a ‘scornful laugh, and then cried : , “Tf 1, were face to face with the pees himself, I would speak my mind more freely, but you can tell him T will fight to the death Hiseteyalg aagteAle gy hme assured of their crimes. not criminals. “what crimes are they accused of, Captain Jason ?”. “The young man is Kiown /as Charles De. Coureey, a -setgeant in Sarsfield’s regiment of horse.” n Treland to-day. What crime is he accused ‘of oe an of hae a oar sneer! now: 1 Is that all he} ‘Barney, flinging the giant aside with great foree. “St. 5. Ga would protect ‘them to the death until is were fully _ All fugitives from justice are Who ‘are the persons you allude to, and a| of the land.” ee ie ne yaa Wed “Then he served: under the best and the bravest leader a am, in behalf of St Ruth, and my, good sword will | baek the accusation.” “T declare thatthe charee is fatees cried the young student, stepping out from behind a tree, “and my good’ sword is ready to repel it on the instant.” The messenger from'St. Ruth stared at the intruder in a haughty manmer, as he demanded, in pompous tones: > *Who is the clown that dares to brave me in this man- ner?” ‘ “Be is a gallant Trisliman who knows how to wield his, sii wears, a sword against the Wnglish, as 1 will bear witness to swered Barney of the Bow, with a grim smile. , “My name is De Courcey, and I serve under the ‘gal- lant Sarsfield,. The strange offieer..dvew back a step or two, and, :put- ting a small bugle to his mouth, he blew a shrill blast, Then, drawing his sword, he cried: ; “You are my prisoner, traitor. Where is the lady you stole 2” ~ Before the accused could answer a heavy tramping was i 4 theard, and in from the wood diShed a troop of over ch “ horsemen, Barney of the Bow seized young De Coureey ty ths shoulder and drew* him back, as he called aloud: “> arms—to arms, men of the Shannon side! Age, vance.one step, Ape tets Jason, and I will send.an arrow into your brain.” Cay ¥Mad outlaw,” cried’ the Sie springing on his. sie “T am St. Ruth. Deliver the prisoner, sealed.” “Not while I have @ hand to defend ‘him, were you King James himself{—the fiexid fly away with the coward! Draw jon them, my gallant men n, and defend this youth. to the utinost of your power.” DOR Ae eo Sa “That we avill, brave leader, » cried the huge Fingal, waving a large battle-ax over: is head. ney of the Bow*and his brave lads of the Shannon side! | ‘St. Ruth, beware how you raise the wrath of—’ pes “Stand back, Fingal, and mind your own place Ne cried Ruth—if you are St. Rute ai lord of this wood |, and you are not my master. in private broils while the English attack Athlone.” “Silence, robber, and ‘deliver up the prisoner or | He who declares me a thief is a base liar’. ~ or your doom is “Hurrah for Bar- ; Ib ill becomes you to interfere, scatter you aud your band to the winds of the night.” — Barney of the Bow glanced at the horsemen, as. “it to measure their numbers, and then at the’ outlaws, Mth were ranged behind him, ere he replied, in defiant tones: a “Advance but one step, St. Ruth, and you will not live to defend Athlone. If this young man is euilty crime he is charged with—and I w ill not: Eick i of his father’s’ ‘son—let’ him. be tried by the Jawfu “Then deliver him up for ‘trial, and stop hs farce, Outlaw. Where is the young, fee ayho, bar with 1 i St. Ruth set spurs: fa iis ee ne the animal, be Biereed | seize” “the ‘pridoher’ sige ea ; an
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’ island has arisen from the waters. the material, pedo boats, destroyers, submarines, and cruisers. 22 FAME AND FORTUNE WEEKLY. FACTS WORTH READING GERMANY’S NEW GIBRALTAR. Germany has made some wonderful changes since 1911 in Heligoland. ‘Two years ago the island. was pretty thoroughly exploited in the French and English press on account of the fear that the Morocco incident might lead to war between England and Germany. It was’ then a fishing island which was being gradually transformed into a naval basé, particularly for submarines and torpedo boats. Now it is a veritable Gibraltar, with a home for all small war craft, including dirigibles and waterplanes. This German Gibraltar protects the mouths of four rivers, including the Elbe and the Weser. A protecting sea wall has been built half round.the island, and from the high Oberland, the biggest and best Krupp guns, on disappearing platforms, command all approaches fom the sea. A tunnel pierces the island from west to: north, through which ammunition and other material may be safely taken. Huge searchlights discover every distant vessel at night, and there is a wireless station. To the south of the lower part of the island a new It is half as big as Heligoland itself and has been built of material brought from Germany. This new island provides shelter for tor- Early in the month there were 41 torpedo boats and 12 sub- marines. On this island are also magazines and sheds for airships of all sorts. “Two years ago the garrison was 100 strong, now its men number 1,500. Germany has never had cause to regret the exchange of Zanzibar for Heligoland with Great Britain in 1890. _ MILITARY AVIATION IN ITALY. : We learn that the Italian government has ordered 70 aeroplanes with a view of giving capital importance to this. question. It is stated that all of these will be con- _ structed in Italy, the greater part at branch works of the ’ Nieuport, Bleriot, Farman and Bristol firms. A good number of the above machines are already in construction. The military commission received 14 aeroplanes not long _’ since, and the coming army concourse is to furnish about 10 more. Counting cs the above, the. aeroplane fleet in Italy will soon be increased by 120 units, end at the same time the government is taking steps to secure all’the power wagon and other material for making up the army aero- plane sections, each of which is to have 6 aeroplanes. No ‘doubt the aeroplane sections or camps will be organized after the plan which proved so successful in France, that is each of the 6 aeroplanes has’ one power wagon to carry stores and spare parts, and this tows a trailer yan containing the aeroplane. Headed by the of- -ficers’ ear, this makes a traveling camp which is set up in the open air or travels over the road, accompanied also by special repair shop cars. — the Jeading aviation center, both for practical and scien- Tice ak but the army also ee ee aerodromes at Mira- Turin has been chosen as | fiori, Venaria Reale and St. Maurice. The Royal In- dustrial Museum has just organized a number of aviation laboratories which will be used for testing of motors, aero- dynamic work and the like, and all the officers of the aero- nautic corps will take part in these operations. Aero- planes for the army are purchased out of the credit voted by Parliament or with the sums-raised by national sub- scription, and the Aero Club of Italy has charge of some of these latter expenditures. On the whole it will be seen that aeroplane matters are very active in that country, MOTOR CHAIR BUILT BY: A SCHOOL BOY. An automobile invalid’s chair, built by a 16-year-old high school boy from discarded dishpans, brass fenders, window sash chains, gas pipe, part of an old bedstead and various other wornout articles, has been attracting the at- tention of passersby in Pittsburgh of late. The miniature car was built by Charles Grunder in an amateur machine shop located in his mother’s kitchen. A broken-down invalid’s chair,~a smashed motorcycle and household junk from the attic, were the materials from which he built the chair for his crippled father. To start with, the boy repaired the framework of the hand-driven chair. A heavier axle was turned upon his lathe. The rear wheels of the hand-driven chair. were too — light to carry the heavy machinery of the proposed new chair, while the wheels of the smashed motorcycle: were too large to fit into the frame of the old chair. This diffi- culty held up the work for several days. At last the ie rebuilt the motorcycle wheels, cutting them from-30 to 2 inches. Pneumatic motoreyele tires, the only new: te about’ the whole chair, were then purchased. A gasoline tank was made from a discarded dishpan, and incased in a box made from the thin cherry paneling of the head- board of ‘an old bed. Stop cocks from an old gas stove were used to regulate the flow of gasoline. A belt drive being found inadequate, the boy substituted a chain drive. A band brake on the left side of the motor chair, made from the iron hoop of an old washtub, works on a drum cut from a casting. The same lever that throws out the clutch applies the brake. The tire of the front wheel is wrapped: | with a brass window chain to prevent skidding, the rear wheels heing equipped with anti-skid tires. A dog chain was at first used on the front wheel, but it was unsatis- factory. he lever controlling the supply of gas feeding into the carbureter is made from an old file. The cut-off yalve is made from a one-half gas pipe “T,” a brass cur: tain rod and a clock spring. The steering lever is made from a length of gas pipe and the end of a mop handlle. The 234 horse-power motor is air-cooled, the fan being made from an old brass fender, and the blower-case from a tin can which at one time held a gallon of apple butter, The blower-case is covered with abestos- to deaden the ‘sound. ‘The boy constructed the entire oiling system from rass tubing and a little solder. A tiny bicycle lamp to compl] y x the city ordinance cosy cies the outfit. j
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FAME AND. FORTUNE WEEKLY. - ON aa YOUNG TOM BROWN THE BOY WHO KNEW HIS BUSINESS so By ED. KING (A SHRIAL STORY.) CHAPTER VIII (continued) ~“Not much I don’t,” replied Tom. “I’ve got five sets of plans in the house now to figure on, and I mean to get every one of those five jobs if I can. I know my business, Mr. Roebuck. I expect to have two hundred men at work inside of two weeks.” CHAPTER IX. TROUBLE IN THE WIND. _ Now do not let it for a moment be supposed that Young Tom Brown was affected with that distressing disease known as the “big head.” adie of that sort. Tom knew. his business, If Chicago: architects would draw plans f or buildings in Dimsdale, Tom was resolved that he would figure on " siid plans just as often as he was invited, and take every job that came along, until his judgment old him the limit had been reached, At the end of the time specified, Tom’s prediction was fulfilled. The payroll of Brown & Son numbered more than two hundred. and fifty men, and thanks to the wise instruction of Brown senior, Jim Roebuck’s faithfulness and Young | Tom Brown’s energy, everything was going along” with * wonderful smoothness. Tom now had twelve contracts on his eae Mer- win’ 3 house, the Jones Block, two small factories, six stores ‘on Main street, and two dwelling houses belonging to one of the paper mill directors. - As for the mill itsel f, Mr. Plautz was just finishing’ up - the first plans, and eiemebtad to be ready to receive Sty: ‘mates in a few: days, Meanwhile Mr. Boggs had been as good as his word. _ The charge against Tom had been withdrawn, and Boggs . published a card in the “Gazette,” stating that having been absolutely convineed of 'Tom’s innocence, he deeply “regretted having made it at all. To all this Aor paid very little attention, however. He was too busy, but naturally he often thought of the mystery of the swamp, which had not been explained in ‘any way, i : nor indeed had Tom seen Kate Merwin sinee his wide ‘was returned to him, except to pass her on the Re “on which occasions Kate merely smiled and bowed.» sty AS for Banker Boggs, in ats of ug a os decline | fully. “We allow-n no man to work more than bl pe: * %* to recognize the man in the street, and’ never even looked | at him when chance brought them together, ; “Look out for Jim Boggs, he’s a treacherous fellow,” Brown senior ‘said, and Tom was looking out. He felt that he had not.seen the last of the banker, and he was patiently waiting for his next move. ~ “To-morrow we figure on the paper mill, father,” ex- claimed Tom, coming in to supper one night. “If we get that contract, I really think we had better stop, for I don’t see how Iam going to be able to attend'to anything more.” “Ym decidedly of the same opinion,” replied Mr. Brown. “You have gone as far as you possibly can with safety. The mill contract alone will keep us at work for months. u ‘Do you think we will get it, father?” asked Tom, sit- ting down at the’table, having pushed his father up in his wheel-Chair: jet “T think we shall. Dr. Merwin as good as promised it . to me, and he is the principal.owner. You gee, T'om) a paper mill is not like a house or a store, it has to be con- _ structed on peculiar principles. Now.I built the old mill, and consequently know just what \s wanted, and—goodness, some one after you again? Well, my boy, it is a fact that they don’t give you much rest,” The bell rang furiously, and when Tom w ent to the door, there stood a large man, flashily dressed, with a gteat ae diamond stud in his shirt front, and a cigar in his mouth. i “Say, are you Tom Brown, the contractor ?” he asked, with a leer of im pudent familiarity, “becaze if yee are, I. want a word wid yez.” “My nameis Brown,” replied Tom, put I don’t know ens: yours. What do you, want?” “My name is Mike Halloran,” teplied the man. “Pm. walking dilegate of the bricklayers? union, We have or- dered a strike against Garmon & Sons on the new railroad depot here, becaze dey won’t make an eight-hour- -day at ten hours’ pay on the new scale. You're min will have to — go out, too.” “My men!” cried Tom, “What have you got to do ath my men, I’d-like to Eenowr.t ' ‘They don’t belong to ses union at all.” “Tndade they do,” fastici Mr. Halloran, with | a sneer.” “ve been working. They’ve all joined but tin, and ges > we'll lay out oowla if they try to work SKC al eae ag “But Im paying twelve hours’: wages for ten hours? : igs replied om; “full union scale.” ¢ “Rean't do-it, bye, > sneered the Walking delegate, ios fe | under the er rule.’ v
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ial ae al Be ” vy “a a ui * Re era Sees “24 FAME AND ) ronroNe WEEKLY, “What! We'll see about that!” cried Tom. «Get out!) - Tom had oe, ‘the least doubt that it was about. her “Pwhat! You young snip! You-order me oub! Git} troubles that the doctor’s daughter had come to consult . out, yersilf! Sure it’s your father Ill dale wid, and mot) him now. ; a bye like you.” “Tom! Torn ! What’s. the matter? Who is it?” ] Now, even under all this impudence, Tom might have| called Mr Brown from the tea table, alarmed at the silence been able to keep his patience if Mr. Mike Halloran bad | at the door. mo not tried to push him to oné side, and force his way into} Thi is*brought Tom to his senses. _. the house. t He either had to dispose of Kate or have Ella come out This was a shade more than Tom could stand. ‘| and find her there: an 4 Thoroughly angty by this.time, he caught the walking| Tom knew his business, and with his usual shrewdness delegate by the throat and with .one push tumbled. him ee got around the situation. in the best possible way. wa backward down the steps. ~ Gently laying Kate down he closed the door, and with- Mike Halloran scrambled to, his fect full of jluster and on quickening Mats steps, walked quietly into the room. » : a fighting talk. B “Tm sent’ for by the Merwins, father,” he said. “Ishall “Tl fix you!” he eried, shaking his fist at Young Tom | have to, ‘go. Ella, you see that father gets everything he Brown. “Ill put you out of business! livery man in yer| wants? t don’t. posts just when I shall be back, but it. 2 > imiplye will be found missing ter-morrer morning, Yl] [may be some little time.” eh. '. tie up your work for six months.” ee saying, Tom put on his hat hag quietly left the — E “Get out! Get out, or Vl set the dogs on you!” eried house. Me Tom. ok * “Do be careful, Tom!” Mr. Brown called after him. “If. This threat sent Mr. Walking Delegate down the atavel you meet that man or any of He strikers, speak them fair! i walk, and out of the gate in a hurry, although the “truth Speak them fair!” ony - was the only dog on the. premises was the half- blind setter,| °“T certainly will, father, eS don’t you org We Tom _ Nero, too old and too gentle to hurt a fly. called backs ee then he went out and closed the door, / «Ltt oe | bad business, Tom,” said Mi. Brown, auneasily, Kate: had reeovered and was standing on the step lean- when Tom came in all worked up with éxcitement, “fm | ing against..one of the piazza posts, toking ‘the very cua wig ‘afraid theve is going to be trouble. Phere is such a thing| ture of distress. ¥ : ‘as having too much enerey, my boy. You ought to hha | “Oh Tom! Vm igatmte T’ve ole you into trouble by-* “spoken to the fellow fair; but it’s. too late now. We shall | coming here this way,” she whispered. “Did a faint ?” ; he all tied ap if our men strike, and the dear knows hove) “That's what you did, Kate. Are you all right now ee it will end.” | teplied ‘Tom gently. crs akg “don’t care!” flashed Tom. “I’m paying the oe *“Oh, yes; I suppose so. 1 feel very strangely though. wages. My men were well satisfied. What business | pia—aia you tell Ella or your father that I was here?” - “that fellow to interfere ?” i ver mentioned it to a soul. They don’t cither of “He's made it his business, and will do ts best to. ry | tiem, know you are here, and if you don’t want them to out his threats,” sighed the invalid; adding then, a§ the’ know it we had. better get right out of the gate.” re ; bell rang loudly, erie he’ is back again | Oh, “Tom, [ se hurried out together and walked side by side'under nee “be cool! 1 ne “¢¢| the broad: spreading branches of the big elms. i Tom rushed to the door, prepared fo2 business. te ou are ’in trouble, Kate. ‘Tell me what. 1 can do for fg pitch him out into the middle of the eas this you,” said Tom. “You know very well if there is any- time,” he muttered, { throwing the door open.” “| thing i in the: world all you have’ to do is to ask.? ‘ips ‘To his surprise, instead of Mr. Mike Holloran,. nell nals know. it, Lom, and that is why I ain here, “e ‘replied — Kate. Merwin standing on the doorstep, loping pale and ‘Kate. earnestly. + “I—you—that is 1 was about, to say—oh, disturbed, ‘ ‘Tom, 1 don’t know what to say nor how to say it. Will _ “Oh, Tom!” she:said. sei meso glad I caught you: ou g go down ie the Zane with me to-n ane want “hood want——”" ; Te owas Suddenly Kate reeled and w ould tae fallen if ‘Tom b Wi “not jumped for ward. and caught her in’ his arms, //° a which ve , 80 he just said: "Yes: certainly T will ees noble , hat ae fo he the very ‘est ame he a fate ; CHAPTER Ry we. ar a RED BRIDGE. i ao if. you sa any fee, ‘fo r oT ‘should not hay as | she stodd ee on ies dotnet ape artis in a dead Rika . Tt. ad gett afe con |, about it, ARSE YE he
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FAME. AND FORTUNE WEEKLY. age The total number of passengers carried last year by the _ Interborough Rapid Transit Company on the New York — Subway and Elevated roads was 634,316,516, an increase over the previous year of over 27,000,000. The greater part of this increase was on the Subway, and it was due, ‘principally, to the ten-car express service. The gross rey- enue for the year ending June 30th last was some thirty- two and one-half million dollars, an increase over the - previous year OF over-one and ae adhd million dollars. The authorities of the Dutch East Indies are continu- from the incoming vessel spread the disease germs. Dr. has now. found that-a mixture of petroleum and soap, ap- plied freely to the localities where the rats swarm, will effectively destroy their fleas and with them the plague pacilli. This new disinfectant is cheaper and more effica- cious than earbolic acid. ¥ W hen compared with the strength of man, the strength an insect is most remarkable indeed. For instance, the isy little ant can carry a load forty or fifty times as heavy as himself, and the ordinary beetle can propel a ; burden a hundred times its own weight. The, insignificant house-fly gives a hundred strokes of his wings in about ‘0 sec onde, thus enabling him to go a distance of thirty- five feet in, that: time. sects is the dragon-fly. It goes through the air at the rate of sixty miles an hour, and can stop instantly, or change its course backward or sideways without lessening its speed or changing the position of its body. One little his hody a hundred others will depend—one holding to an ther, chain-fashion ; and one cannot see that the ‘rst 2e wavers or finds his load high genie Mitchell, nicanee of the Salvation ‘Army’ s International ational bandmaster, is in New York going over the Col. Mitchell said the total nue of the Salvation Army was now about $30,000,000 7 more rapidly in, the United States and Canada. than. eat i FROM ALL POINTS ally fighting the danger of the plague, which threatens the| communities especially in the harbor towns, where rats; _ dij!, Governments physician for the harbor of ‘Soerabaja, | | bankruptey. the desire. to gratify the tastes of his wife, Perhaps ie most wonderful of all himself by his suspenders. ney-hbee will hang suspended from a limb, while from | family reunion scolded’ son, sixty-cight, for smoking, Exchequer at- London, and also in-| as situation with Col. Reinhardsen, the local ‘treas- | est in. another. The colonel is ‘incidentally making preparations | en. Branwell Booth’s. visit to this country, which is | man, wrote on a sign in the window of his shop, a “He said the movement was growing financially. i “This revenue may not be regarded) ‘ ts * May, when the fhternaitonal Congress meets. Two feat these will go ‘from New York, one will be the woman's band, connected with the Flying Squadron, and the other will be the headquarters staff band, of which Col. Jenkins” is leader. Chicago will send one band, and Flint, Mich., will gps another. FROM EVERYWHERE. Fresh mushrooms are quoted at ten cents a quart in ~ northern New Jersey. This, noweyet, has no effect, upon a the Broadway price. ek When Robert Lantz and his demnity arrived near Sparta,’ N. J., where they expected to live, they found only the Ghimney. The house had. burned in the night. Persons fumigating the steamship Creole, of the Mor- gan line, failed to remember Thomas Mooney, a ‘sailor, was in his bunk asleep. They found him later uncon-- _ scious. He was revived at a hospital. as Joseph O'Donnell, a Bronx clerk, gave as his cause of whowaras il. deht. John S. Woodruff, of Milburn, N. J., found sien ripe in his garden. A rose bush is also in bloom for the ¥ second time. 4 Convicted of dpe eintes his coal sales, ges Mor, of South Orange, had his vote challenged at the primaries. Oswald Freitchie, locked up in Péekskill, tried to hang ~ His weight, 270 uae broke the galluses and he wag fined $5. Mares Katherine Morrissy, of Yonkers, mistook the Third - Police Precinct Station house. Placing a tin bucket on — the lieutenant’s desk she asked for a good pint hecentes there was company at home. Judge Norton, of Freeport, L. I., held court in open aie ‘ while the room was, jeconstructed! - Mrs. Amelia C. Fisher, Sunbury, Pa., one hundred, ot . Clothing and cheap jewelry ran him in | A pe fas iy; *% George Powles, of Patchogue, and his brother, Alfred of Schenectady. have met after forty years. Priest in New Haven made executor of patishione estate discovered it: consisted of one saloon and an i “Will be back in five. minutes,” ‘Wah Lee, a Jam lr Jefferson, two months ago. His customers fear his ‘has stopped. Since fresh laid eges are “ined ie gold” os : 60 cents a doven, farmers have, taken extr proteah, thelr, hens. John A. Johnson, vedere Phi on his seventy -eighth. tts
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26 FAME AND FORTUNE WEEKLY. Fame and Fortune Weekly NEW YORK, OCTOBER 24, 1913. TERMS TO SUBSCRIBERS Single Copies One Copy Three Months One Copy Six Months. ............ One Copy One Year Postage Free. HOW TO SEND MONEY—At our risk send P.O. Money Order, Check or Registered Letter; remittances in any other way are at your risk, We accept Postage Stamps the same as cash. When sending silver wrap the Coin in a separate piece of paper to avoid cutting the envel- ope. Write your name and address plainly. Address létiers to 8 iv. Tousxy, President ) og lesan t Frank Tousey, Publisher 168 West 23d St., N. Y. BRIEF BUT POINTED ITEMS Seeret trials are to be conducted at the Chalons camp shortly of a new type of aeroplane, which will be armored and provided with a powerful gun.. “Le Journal” says that the aeroplane is intended to be used as a Zeppelin chaser. The gun will be mounted on a light revolving ~ cupola and will be operated with the pilot’s foot. In wrecking the mansion at Clinton, Ill., erected forty years, ago by Colonel Thomas Snell, a coffin containing the skeleton of a small child was found skilfully concealed in the walls of the structure. An inquest was held, but no clue’ to the mystery was found. The homestead has been untenanted since the death of Colonel Snell, whose will, disposing of a large fortune, was the subject of long and | ponerse iigation a few years ago. The high cost of dying is to be lowered in Chicago with the advent of motorbuses, each large enough to contain the coffin and a funeral party of ordinary size. The funeral bus will have a compartment to the right of the chauffeur’s seat for the coffin and above it a lace for flowers. Near the driver will sit the minister and the undertaker, and _ there will be accommodations for twenty-seven mourners. One of the.principal items in the cost of funerals is trans- portation. The funeral bus, it is said, will reduce the cost by $30. Ten of the buses are to be in operation soon, ‘aes ' ‘enterprise the doxitiact for the construction in Turkey of : villages for Macedonian refugees, Each village will in- elude a mosque and a school in addition to a certain num- ber of houses. ‘For the present it is expected that 40,000 houses will be built, each of which, equipped with an outfit of agricultural implements, will cost about $440. The houses, built of stone, rough bricks or wood, according to the locality, will each contain two rooms and a stable and ‘ will be provided with a modern plough and accessories and ie ‘cei oer éattle. aft Gi Py + "Righty. -one Chinese students ane registered at Colum- ia University, New York, this year for the fall term. here were only five Chinese, students at Columbia, ‘The Ottoman government intends awarding to private? in with: , Harvard and Cornell had from twenty-five to! mother.” In seven years, however, Columbia has left Of the eight-one ee forty each. the other universities behind. now matriculated in Columbia eight are young men. Four are in Barnard and three in Weacheus Coll The other is little’ Miss Y. J. Huang, daughter of General Huang-Hsing, hero’of the Chinese revolution of 1911 and lately leader of the Southern rebellion. Miss Huang is here with her brother, JI. N. Huang, and his wife. Miss Huang will enter the Horace Mann School, and her brother will study at Columbia College. Asked of the where- abouts of their father, on whose head it was said President Yuan Shih-Kai had placed a price of 40,000 taels, Mr. Huang said he did not know, that he was not interested in politics and that he was sent here by his father to learn civil engineering. More than half Re eighty-one are government students, with a dozen supported by the edu- cational fund created from the $14,000,000 boxer in- demnity remitted by the United States government. JOKES AND JESTS. “Johnny,” said the teacher to a small pupil, “where is the north pole?” “At the top of the aed eit an- swered the youthful student. Stranger—What sort of a man is your seiebae John Braggs? Native—Oh, he’s all right, but he has a tel- escopic imagination. Stranger—How’s that? Native— Yes, he can’t even tell the truth without ee it-at least two sizes larger than it is.’ “Tt is vulgar to dress so as tovattract attention on the street.” “Isn’t it!” “I saw Miss Knobby going down the street yesterday in a gown which caused every man she passed to turn and look at her.” “Sure enough! I wonder who is her dressmaker?” “I.asked her, but she © wouldn’t tell me.” : “My boy,” said the kind old gentleman, “don’t you know that if you smoke cigarettes you will nevér grow up to be president?” “Maybe not, mister,” responded Tommy Tuff, as he blew out another ring, “but I can grow up to | be de villain in de big melodrama, and he gets fifty bones a week for chasing de heroine over de canvas mountains.” “Wish to leave, Parkins? Why, you only came yester- day.” “Yes, marm. In engaging I thought you was a sparragrass and champagne gentry. But when I ’ears from the cook last night that you eat pertaters, cabbages, carrots, and such like second-hand vegetables, and drinks beer, I sees there ain’t nothing aesthetic in it, and I re- signs my- office, so to speak.”’ Two stylishly dressed ladies one Sunday mornin were returning home from a church where the rector of a'neigh- horing parish had preached. One lady proceeded to criti- cise the sermon, remarking that she considered it deplora-' a bly weak. But at this point her little boy, who happened — to see his mother’s contribution to the collection, chimed e “But you can’t expect ser se a penny,
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- THE LONE ‘HUT. I dare say most people will remember the time when a number ‘of false notes were in circulation, both in London and most of the chief cities of the United Kingdom. Who put them into circulation no one could tell. Now one \would be passed by a heavy swell-+another by a respectable old man, having much of a clerical look about him—and then again another by a lady. “Evidently a lady,” the vic- timized tradespeople would declare, “for she came up in a carriage and gt with a coachman and a footman all com- plete.” How could Messrs. Tassel & Blume suspect a lady who did her shopping in that manner—although they did think it strange she did not have the goods sent home, but car- ried them with her? The goods came to over forty pounds. A fifty-pound note produced—tested in the proper way by the tradesman in his counting-house out of sight of the lady so that she should not be offended. It answered every test. Being wetted, the water-marks showed up darkly, which proved that the paper was of the right kind. Then the engraving was so perfect—everything exact. No, not everything. I was the first to notice that. It was that the} figure of Britaania, in the.corner, had a head too big, and there were one or/two other discrepancies in the engraving from the real note but so slight that it wanted a sharp eye to notice them. I consulted my partner, a clever young - fellow named Snaresdale. _ He listened for some time to my story, and I could see that he was not quite too well pleased with the idea until I put some further points ae him, when. he isaid: . “Take it,-Gerval.” _ Leaving my partner, I went to the nearest grogg ary and got a glass of grog and a cigar. ___ Thad almost fallen asleep over my cigar and grog, when I heard someone speaking in the bar. Instantly I crept to the window in the. door of the smok- ing-room, and drawing the curtain a little on one side, peeped in. A handsome fellow of about thirty was busily engaged | » examining a railway guide. He’ had evidently fotind ‘the By Kit Clyde. FAME AND FORTUNE WEEKLY. a7 ‘| what had been fog in London had been rain down there. But the weather was warm, and the Golden Sheaf one of . the most comfortable inns I have ever stopped at. When I rose in the morning the sun was shining brightly. The | birds sang cheerily, the air was fresh and beautiful and the sweet scent of Swaningdale Woods filled the air with odors. Of course, the first thing I had to do was to make friends with tHe landlord, and so learn all that I could about the people ; and the news I heard was of the most meager kind, ~ Boniface not being a communicative host. No, there was not much company in the county. Swan- ~ ingdale belonged to Sir George Martingale, buthe never lived there ; he was always out of the country. A rich gen- tleman from abroad had taken the old place, and he kept it~ “proper.” What was his mame? Captain Kelly. — And this was all I could hear from my host; not much, beyond that the name of Captain Kelly reminded me of Captain James O’Kelly, alias O’Meara. It was a beautiful morning that after which I arrived at Swaningdale, and-I took a stroll over the country, and Tovely I found it. I was passing through a woodland scene of great beauty when I heard the sound of voices, and listened. “Miss Rose Elmsley” said a man, in deep, rich tones, «y pray you to listen to me. I have already told you How -deeply—how passionately—I love you. I did so in a-mo- ment when my passion overcame my better feelings: I know I am unw orthy of you, and therefore press my suit no further ; but if I cannot be your husband, at least let me be your fr jend. Beware of this Captain James 0’ site 3 “You do well to speak thus of your host.” “Host! I think I have paid enough for the hospitality I have received at Swaningdale. W. ell, Ihave warned you— can do no more, But should trouble come—and come it | will, I am convinced—do not for get that you have a friend in Cecil F ortescte, Good-morning, Miss Elmsley.” From the place where I. was standing I could just get a glimpse of the speaker. The man was a fine, soldier-like looking fellow. “Believe me, Mr. Fortescue, I am thankful for your kind wishes for my happiness, and greatly honored by you. thinking me worthy of your love, but I have sean i told © % you that I am engaged to Captain O’Kelly and. “Well, well—say no more about it. Only remember, ites ¥ train he ‘wanted, for The glanced quickly up at the clock,| trouble comes you have a bees in me. wifey, heaven’ sae : and, finding that he.had no time to spare, drank his prog and hurried off leaving the railway guide open on the counter. ‘In a minute I was out of my room, had seized the guide and examined the page carefully; for I had seen him run ‘his thumb-nail down the line and I had no doubt but that he would leave a long scratch ‘with it. He had done so, mand 1 found that the “ianon he wanted was Swaningdale. I hurried off to the station at once, and arrived just in time to miss the train, but there was anes that went an hour later. Sa" A right,” I ihoaabt as I singe into a hansom cab and drove home. “I am.on the track now. If that fellow s not the so-called Captain O’Meara my name is not Tam right.” gone—but I at once e new my old friend sae 0" val, ai certain that he had sain, to do in this . fend you.” They parted, the lad Jeaubnag er eatly moved. .¢ RR tas 1 was about t irning from this place when a. peculiar — noise attracted my attention. I paused and listened in | wonder. What could it be? That was the clink of some — machinery, I crept down through the tangled underwood, aud at, last, ate my surprise, found a path which led e to what had the appearance of being a blacksmith’s hut—a a st miserable, dirty place, to all appearance deserted, ‘for the - # 2 windows were boarded up and a padlock was on the door. ' Theard footsteps coming rapidly behind me, and, rab -ing round, beheld a handsome, dashing fellow hurrying along, He had only” a mustache—beard and whiskers. I evade “ ours
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=: eee | FAME AND PORTUNE. “WEEKLY. . ies ; a Die SE EOSIN Nees Sid cS 1 | — eee ae on Thad finis shed June 1eon, had somewhat shoud my ar I knew the place where that note came from, and bid- and was smoking a cigar at the door of the hotel, wonder-| ding the servanttell his master that I had been call a ing what f should do next, when O'Kelly, dressed in riding on important business—but not unless he inquired’ for me edstame! dashed up on horseback, and, dismounting; altvew —and that I should be back soon, I hurried” aiway the reins to an hostler; with the direction that he should having donned my greatcoat, left the Hall in the company -. » walk the mare up and down to prevent it getting a chill, | of a mah dressed like a coachman, but whom I knew to be Strolling up to him, l engaged him in conversation: and ja policeman. gee ‘after awhile we hod a drink together and became great| Down we-went through the oot until we came to the — “friends—so great that T was invited to stay at Swaliinpdale hollow wherein stood the lone hut, and there we were “instead of the hote!—an invitation I at once adcajsted: joined by some twenty constables, some of whom were “Come early,” he said, as we shook hands. “Here comes | dressed in plain clothes. A few hurried words and the in- the lady for whom I have heen waiting. Good- day.” _ | spector of the county police placed his men round the hut, ~ LT could not come earlier, J James dear,” she said, all in| while I and two men advanced to the building from whieh es _\a flutter, came the same strange, rumbling noise.~ We listened at the — “Hush, hush! That will do, Rose,” he said; and having; 7o0or, and then at a signal from me, My companion ae a “introduce ‘a me, he hurried the lady away to her horse: nyself rushed against the door. Re As he Was assisting her to mount, she turned ler, head A crash, and we stumbled into the hut.’ A amuttered ery, @ around and perceived a Jady watching her. The crimson and the light was dashed out, and the next moment some-. color flew into her ¢hecks. Quick ly recovering herself, she one sprang at my throat. I knocked him down, and called vaulted lightly on her horse and rode away, followed by | for lights, which were soon brought, and to my delight I ca eehe captain, who mounted his horse more leisurely. discovered as pretty a copperplate press and a lithograph — I then turned my attention to the lady. © “| press, , together with engrayed: plates of bank-notes, as ever ; »“You are ill, madam,” I said. “Permit me to” assist | 1 saw in my life, i vou into the hotels’ A short vest and sone stimulant Bae a Two men were found hard at work at the presses, and. no . : hank you, sit, you are very kind. But I am “het sooner were the “wristbands” on them than they confessed e yu iknow the lady, and gentleman who hive jus os to admitting that most of the men at the Hall — A: Berto were in the scheme, and Captain O'Meara, or Kelly, the ; but as Tam going to make a’ghort- visit | SOU of the plot, + an r ig, “We ovis become better acqruninted. # Be The capture having been made, I instructed. the police he? es how to ae a then returned to ~ Hall, removed ‘ at pales “But, ae my advice do not ph conver a $ 3 f Saat Grace!” cried a tone voice. ery hing at Svoningdate was ete ost poe ive! bar ae re : awrence, 94 sai our ‘host, after Wwe Hall ed to the Indies. ne you ps ie nye not spare as zm é The door of the ‘apartment in sein oe ladies re) _ {speaking was a little way open. I looked in and beheld ae ‘Miss Fanshaw, eold and haughty, and Rose Elmsley see ig: before her in an imploring: attitude. bo pal saw the case pretty clearly now, and passed on tt rawing-room, entered it and “having closed the - ‘dled through the rooms until 1 ee ‘Miss Gra : 10m. I had been formally: introduced, Q nee walked with me. Her conversation was dri its, but when we were crossing ab: istanc froth the rest of the company, ho im: anged. Turning to me she demanded, been fe * “WW t made you a cards Feira Ls oe hat do you mean by this——” commenced Capiain | Kelly, when I stopped him. Etat , beta “Pardon me, captain,” I said, “I ast my dut, ae form. T am Detective Geral ag am do out. poet forged notes and~ ae an t rae (fi
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* Beef as cheap as 10 cents a pound was predicted for the United States'if the cattle of Peru are allowed to enter : American markets. | A, B. Leguia, exiled President of Peru, during a visit to Secretary of State Bryan, said: “Peru abounds in cattle, and if they can be shipped into the United States duty free, a marked decline in the price of beef will be evident.” . After forty-one years as a barber, in Darby, Pa. / during | which he had ‘scraped many thousands of faces ‘andsre-| ~ moved tons of hair from the heads of customers, Phil Sip- ler, the town barber, has laid away his razors, put up his shears, and quit business. Figuring it out on a conserva- “tive basis of 100 shaves and twenty haircuts ‘a week for forty-one years, Sipler has scraped faces something like 213,000 times and cut the hair of something like re) 100 men and boys. He asserts he has said next” to 265, 000 ‘ persons. { After a year’s “study of the health situation at Vassar College, the aathorities have decided that the cotton — tresses and butter are not conducive to good health, and as a result butter is barred from the table, and hereafter ' the girls will sleep on hair ‘mattresses. The girls are as- Hy tonished at the new order, and many a pretty face was $ puckered ‘up, With expression of disgust at the butterless bread. There is much talk of formal protest against the rule. During the summer vacation the authorities at the college hauled out all the cotton mattresses and bur.ed them. ' ; PProk James E. Rice, of the poultry iesteaenit ne the fe ‘State College of Agriculture at. Cornell University, ‘is justly proud of his prize hen, Cornell Supreme, which laid 660 eggs in three’ years, the highest stistained yield he knows. ‘The 660 weighed 86.19 pounds, or 25.82 times the weight of the hen. layer, produced 562 eggs in three years. The remarkable thing about this hen is that she laid more eggs each suc- ssive year, layin 180 the first, 186 the next, and 196 the third. This. proves, Prof. Ride says, sustain a high “productiveness ° for {ieee years, and he thinks that. a race of Jonger-lived hens can bé raised to the geet atest 5 of the es industry of the coun- \ thy vert Gh F bie ett a i aay) 7 tein : expulsion on ” aecburat. of their total abstinence prin- cipl s of a number of students from Greifswald University, one of the oldest in Germany, founded in 1456, hag wused a sensation here. The students, numbering about ‘pane were called together ip June to attend: a er evening” in celebtation of the jubilee of the Aatatiag i $ reign, at which the tainers protested. and were: ials, who ie th ae TM AND FORTUNE PREY GOOD READING ooo -| the Dalles to Fort Behton. The trust was not fee Cornéll Surprise, another crack} that a hen ean’ 1 ee four days. Re authorities to three days’ confinement in the university dungeon. Further protests by other students led to even —. mere drastic steps being taken by the authorities, who at _ once expelled two of them and swamoned four others to take their trial before the university officials, Probably the most \spectacular and perilous journey that was ever made by an express rider,in the inland em- pire is recorded in the official reports of Goy. Isaae I- Stevens. ‘The governor and a small party of twenty-four were near Fort Benton, Mont., in the autumn of 1855 {alter a summer of hard work negotiating treaties with Indian tribes between the Cascade Mountains and the Montana plains. said Stevens’s biographer: ° a “The great tribes of the upper Columbia country—the Cayuses, Yakimas, Walla Walla, Umatillas, Palouses and all the Oregon lands down to the Dalles, the very ones _ who had signed the treaties at the Walla Walla council and professed such friendship—had all broken out in open war. They had swept the upper country clean of whites, killing all the. settlers and miners found there, and muraiaed: Agent Bolon under circumstances of peculiar atrocity. Major Haller, sent into the Yakima country with 100 regulars and a howitzer, had been defeated and forced to re retreat by Kamiaken’s warriors with the loss ot a third aa his force and his cannon.” y This startling news the governor must ioe and Ww. ee Pearson was chosen to ride express with despatches from fe _ Pearson rode out of the Dalles fresh and well moun and riding all day. ed, night reached Billy McKay’s ri neh on the Umatilla by dayligh se The place was “desert : Lassoing a fresh mount he saw a band, of hostiles racing down the hills toward the valley, an “as he sprang in o the saddle they gave fierce yells and cries of “Kill the white man! They pursued him tor many miles, bill ce ‘slowly away” and at nightfull turned off the trail. at right rode for several miles and then took a course pa the regular route, Riding i in this strategic manner, resting a ‘ew. sechailed covert and seeking unusual fords, Pearson. reached Lapwai and after a day’s rest pushed on over the Root Mountains. A blinding snowstorm beset. # tree fell and crushed his Nez Perce companion and the tiail was buried under several feet of new fallen sno Unable to travel further. on horseback, Pearson 1 “Vised . snowshoes, cutting the frames with his” weaving the webs with strands from his rawhide and } packin his blankets and a little dried meat u back he st iggled over the snow-buried heights, an fs desperate travel dgscende into the Fort Owen, wae, ae a fresh _Vall an
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80 ‘FAME AND FORTUNE WEEKLY, ARTICLES OF ALL KINDS FOX SKELETON FOUND IN A TREE. Loval naturalists are guessing how the skeleton of .a fox got in the forks of a tree on the Clarion River, near Cdokebiieg, Pa. The skeleton was discovered by Charles Garland, a member of the Edgewood troop, boy stouts, in the course of a nature study ramble with his comrades: The scouts, during the weeks spent in the woods and fields, took every opportunity to study the ways of. birds and «animals, the characteristics of tree and-.plant life. They. found bones of animals occasionally which they classified, but the fox skeleton was the prize naturalistic discovery of the amateur research party. ‘The skeleton was that of a fox full grown and perfectly formed. Foxes, as the scout naturalists had often read, burrow holes in the ground for their homes. » Rarely are’ -they known to leap into a tree except perhaps asa last resort when hunted by dogs. As the boys sat around the camp- fite evenings they spun theories as to the possible fate of reynard. A-few thought the fox had jumped into the tree to elude pursuers, had become caught in the forks of the tree and had starved to death. Others surmised the ani- nial, sick or wounded, had climbed the tree and had chosen the tree forks as its deathbed. ‘Still others. advanced the explanation that the sly and erafty terror of barnyards had jumped into the tree to eatch a stray fowl alighting on its branches and had slipped into the forks, which proved a trap from which there was _ Ho ame : - FIRST VESSEL PASSES PANAMA CANAL LOCKS. : \ / ‘ Thé most important step thus far toward the operation of the Panama Canal took place September 26, when the seagoing tugboat Gatun, drawing twelve and a half feet ‘of water, was successfully passed through the Gatun locks and floats on the bosom of Gatun Lake. “This was the first attempt made to operate the locks on the canal, and the result was highly pleasing to Colonel Goethals, chairman of the canal cornmission, ‘and canal Officials generally. All day long hundreds of persons, mmen, women and children, withstood the burning rays of the’ tropic sun to see the act of passing the first vessel from sea level to the level of Gatun Lake, which had feached a height of a little more than sixty-five feet, or within twenty feet of ‘its normal level. The operations were conducted with great care and everything went through according to schedule, The three chambers, up- pé?, middle and lower, on the eat side of the locks, were ‘used of this occasion. The men worked far into night making everything ready for the operation. — _ The upper lock filled in the forenoon, and in the after- noon the water was admitted to the middle and lower locks, but it was not until 4:45 p. m. that the water in the — lower lock had reached: the level of aan in the sea channel outside. | “At this hour the sea gate was swung, and a moment - later” the tug, which had been in’ readiness all day in the’ sop ach channel, bec its 8 head toward he biases f As the vessel passed inside the lower lock chamber’ a mighty cheer went up from the assembled thousands. that lined the lock walls, the tug’s whistle was blown loud’ and long, and all the whistles in the neighborhood joined in the chorus. ‘he Gatun was in charge of Captain Stewart. Among the party on board were Colonel William L. Sibert, divi- sion engineer of the Atlantic division of-the canal, ‘under whose supervision the Gatun locks were built; Colonel Harry F. Hedges, assistant chief engineer and designer of the canal locks and the operating machinery, and Major J. P. Jervey, who has had personal charge of the masonry construction of the locks. Colonel Goethals was on hand all day, but did not make the trip. SCHENECTADY EXPERT. INVENTS DEADLY RAY’ Invisible light waves that will, it is alleged, axinihilate the largest dreadnought afloat or destroy a bomb-carrying — aeroplane have been produced by William Burr Gibson, of Schenectady, who is connected with the engineering “de- partment of the General Electric Company. - The instrument of production is already in the posses- sion of the United States Government, and is undergoing rigid tests. In a test made by the inventor, before apply- ing for the patent, a charge of dynamite was, exploded five miles away. The apparatus can be carried around 5 an ordinary man. “Although I have not made actual experiments with aeroplanes,” said the inventor, “the success which has at- tended the other demonstrations warrants me in predicting that it will as readily destroy war ee ay ~ Fa it will explode ordinary mines.”! Experts declare it will revolutionize ratte With its aid, an inyading force could easily explode every mine in its ‘line of progress, and destroy its antagonist’s defenses in a day. , “By means of these invisible rays,” said one, “a battle- ship would be blown to atoms by the explosion of its own, magazines with no more power than it takes to light an ordinary are lamp.” The machine is extremely simiple, and is the result of — seven years’ experimenting by the inventor, who. is twen-_ ty-five years old. It consists of an ordinary arc light, two — quartz lenses, and. seven colored screens. The device ig® designed to concentrate and project ultra-violet rays. “When the ultra-violet rays impinge upon powder,” said \_ Mr. Gibson, “they cause a molecular action which sets up friction. This produces heat and causes the powder to explode. By directing the stream of light upwards, any aero- rs plane cartying bombs would be destroyed. The inventor — himself has an ingenious idea to destroy any of the en- — He scam emy’s aeroplanes wich are sent out without bombs. proposes to send up small balloons with dynamite bombs attached. These would be exploded near the flying att,’ < creating a vacuum and capsizing the machines. wee
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; 7 YOu 3 CHANGING MONEY TRICK BOX. With this trick box you can make money change, from a penny into a dime or vice versa, Also-make dimes appear and dis- appear at your command. Price, 10c, each by mail, postpaid. H. ¥. LANG, 1815 Centre St., B’klyn, N. ¥. OR SNEEZING POWDER. The greatest fun-maker a chem all. A small ameunt ef this pewder, when blewn in a reem, witl cause everyene to sneeze witheut anyone knowing where it comes from. It is very Nght, wifl fieat in the air fer seme time, and penetrate overy neok and cerner ef a roem. t is perfecttly harm- less. Cachee jis put up im bottles, and ene bettle contains enovgh te be used from 16 te 1b times. Price, by madi, 10c. each; 3 for 25a, WOLFF NOVELTY CO., 29 W. 26th St., N. ¥. HENDOO FLOWER-POT TRICK With this trick you can make a prant grow right up in a flower-pot, Ddefore the eyes of your audience. An ordinary empty earthen flower-pot is handed to the spectators tor examination, A handkerchief is then placed over it, and you repeat a few magic words, and Wave your wand over it. When the handkerchief is removed there is a -—t/ beautiful plant, apparently in full bloom, in the pot. Full directions with each outfit. Price, 15 cents by mail, postpaid. M. V. GALLIGAN, 419 W. 56th St., N. ¥. NOISY HANDKERCHIEF. A’ great deal of amusement may be had with this little article. It imitates the blow- ing of the nose exactly, except that the noise "> magnified at least a dozen times, and sounds like the ‘bass-horn in a : German band. used by simply placing it between the teeth and blowing. The harder the blow the lJonder the noise. Price, 10c. each by mail, postpaid. WOLFF NOVEL®Y CO., 29 W. 26th St., N, Y¥. NEW MASKS Half-face masks with mov- able nies. A distinct nov- elty which will afford no end of amusement. They come . fis in 6 styles, each a different face, such as Desperate Desmond. ete., and are beautifully, colored and splendidly finished, with patent*eyelets to prevent tearing. Price 15 cents apiece, by mail, postpaid. H. F. LANG,- 1815 Centre St., B’klyn, N. Y. { JAPANESE WATER FLOWERS wa Without exception, most beautiful and teresting things on market. They ef a dozen dried-up sprigs, neatly encased in handsomely decorat- ed envelopes, just as they are imported from pees gus sprig ; owl of water, spre ae it begins to exude various bright tints. Then it slowly opens out inte vaiieus shapes of exyuisite flowers. They @re of all colors.of the rainbow. It is very amusing’ to watch them take form. » Small size, price 5 cents; large size, 10 cents a package, by mail, postpaid. M, V. GALLIGAN, 419 W. 56th St., N. ¥. ALL WANT-THIS MEDAL! You Gan Get One for Six Gents! Has a picture of Bred Fearnot on one side and , ! Evelyn on the other. The chief characters of “WORK AND WIN’ The Medals are beautifullyfire-gilt, In order that every reader of this Weekly may secure one ormore of these medals, we have paa the price away in- the consist will see when you receive it. us THREE CENT POSTAGE STAMPS, and we will send the medal to any address, postage paid, by return mail. REMEMBBR! You can secure as many medaisas you want. plainly to a“ FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher 468 West 23a Street, New York This device is | low cost, as you | Send to | TWo-° me NA By) PI We : id Sure Fire - Accuracy Penetration The World’s Record Holders ' Remington-UMC .22 cal. cartridges have broken _ two records in two years. BINGO. It is a little metal box. It looks very in- nocent. But it is sup- plied with an ingenious mechanism which shoots off a harmless cap when it is opened. You can have more fun than a circus with this new trick... Place the BINGO in or under any article and it will go off when the ar- ticle is opened or removed. It can be used as a funny joke by being placed in a purse, cigarette box cr between the leaves of a magazine, also, under any movable article, such as a book, tray, dish, ete. The BINGO can also be used as a Burglar Alarm or as @ Theft Preventer by being placed in a drawer, money till, under a door or window, or under any article that -would be moved or disturbed should a theft be attempted. Price 15 cents each. by mail, postpaid. | WOLFF NOVELTY CO., 29 W. 26th St., N. ¥. the | GOOD LUCK CUN FOB. i 1 The real western article, carried by the cowboys, It is made of fine leather, with a_ highly- nickeied buckle. .The holster con- tains a thetal gun, of the same pattern as those used by all the most famous scouts, Any boy wearing one of these fobs will at- tract attention, give him an air of western romance. The and most serviceable watch fob ever made. Send for each hy mail postpaid; M. ¥. GALLIGAN, 4ly W. 56th St,, N. ¥. THE DANCING NIGGER A comical toy with which you can have no end of fun. It consists of “&@ . cut-out figure fastened to a thread suspended between the ends of a_ spring. By pressing the wires between the fingers and thumb the fig- ure will dance ing the funniest P»uanner. Price 10 cents each, by mail, postpaid. DELUSION TRICK. A magic littie box in three parts that i8 very mystify- % ing to those not in the trick. | A coin placed on a piece of paper disappears by dropping : " a nickel ring around it from | the magic box. Made of hard | wood two inches in diameter. Price, 12¢, ‘ M. V. GALLIGAN, 419 W. 56th &t., N, ¥, ps : iF; ma bh oe is LR WOLFF NUVELTY CO., 29 W. 26th St., N. ¥. Remington- UMC—the perfect shooting combination REMINGTON ARMS-UNION METALLIC CARTRIDGE co. It will | prettiest | oue to-day. Price 20 centg_ rat, Nee The Remington-UMC cubs make e find The present world’s 100-shot gallery record, 2484 ex 2500, held by Arthur Hubalek was made with these hard hitting .22’s. They will help you, too, to break your best shooting reeords. Remington- UMC .22’s are made, too, with hollow point bullets. This increases their shocking and killing power. , i 299 Broadway, New York city Nickel-pl Sin. ine Wizard Repeating LIQUID PISTOL, Will stop the most vic- lous dog (or man) with- out permanent injury, Perfectly safe to.carry without danger oflenkage, Fires and recharges b» 4 “5 pulling the trigger. Loads from any Liquid. No cartridges required, Over six shots in one loading, All dealers, or by mail, 5Qc. Pistol with rubber cov- ered holster. GSc. Holsters separate, 1c. Send money order. No postage stamps or coins accepted. PARKER, STEARNS & CO., 278 GEORGIA AVE,, BROOKLYN, NH, ¥ GREENBACKS! ‘Big bunch of stage money, 10¢. The Literary Enterprise - 38348 Lowe Ave., Chicago. LOTS OF FUN FOR A DIME Ventriloquist Double Throat. ~~ e Fits roof of mouth; always invisible; greatest thing yet. Astonish and mystify your friends. Fy Neigh like a horse; whine like a puppy; sin / like a canary, and imitate birds and beasts o! the field and forest. Loads of fun. Wonder- fulinvention. Thousands sold. Price: only 10 cents; 4 for 25 cents, or 12 for 50 cents, Double Throat Co. Opt. x Frenchtewn,N.S CARD THROUGH THE HAT TRICK F With this trick you bar« row a hat, and appar- ently shove a card up_ through the- crown’ without injuring the card or hat. The oper- ation can be reversed, the performer seemingly pushing the card down through the crown into” pect dey AW pair It is a R rick which will puzzle and interest the closest. observer and detection is almost impossible. It is so simple that ‘a ~ *hild can learn how to perform it in a few. munutes, i : Price 10 cents each, by mail, post-paid -H. F. LANG, 1815 Centre S8t., B’kiyn, N. ¥. FTL Also known as a Japanese butterfly. A. pleasing novelty \en- closed in an envelope. When the envelope is opened Fiffl will fly for several yards, Made of colored paper : 4 to represent a butter- fiy six inches wide, ‘Price, 100, M, V, GALLIGAN, 419 W, 56th St., N. ¥. GOOD LUCK BANKS. Ornamental as well as° Made of highly nickeled Xt held-; just One Dear. filled ct. ens itself. lecked unt refilled. ak a watchcharm. ed if net satisfied. by mail. useful, ' brass. When Gan be used — Money retanae:2 Price, 1c. 2 out through the air~ - Remains =
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Look! A GRAND PREMIUM publications for a year. Description of the Watch It is American-made, open face, stem wind and set, and will run from 30 to 36 hours with one winding. The movement is the same size as an expensive railroad timepiece, absolutely accurate, and each one is guaran- ‘teed. The cases are made in Gold Plate, Polished Nickel, Gun-metal with Gilt center and plain Gun-metal. The design on the back case is a fancy engraved scroll. Send in Your Subscriptions Now to , FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, 168 West 23d St., N. Y. City Look! One of these fine watches to anyone sending us me $2.50 ae For one year’s subscription to either “Moving Picture Stories,” “Happy Days,” “Wild West Weekly,” “Fame and Fortune Weekly,” “The Liberty Boys of ’76,” “Se- cret Service,” “Work and Win,” or “Pluck and Luck.” There is only one condition—send us the money and we will send you the watch, and any one of the above JAPANESE DIVER The strangest toy on the market. They are made in Japan and look little red mandarin. Each is furnished with a car- ™tridge to which a pair of legs are attached. By making two pin-holes ment, for hats or clothing, etc 7a Price 10 cents each, by mail postpaid. ‘ a e; 4 M i ‘St. D pi c. BE
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a ie Sle Se aay of Wall Street.) 893 A Born Hustler; or, The Boy With the “Goods.” Mat, the Money Maker; or, A Strange Lad in Wall Street. 895 “Out For Everything”;.or, The Boy Who Was Willed a Circus. 396 In Wall Street to Win: or, The Boy Who Got the Money. 0) 397 A Young Sinbad; or, Wrecked on a Treasure Island. Wall Street story. 898 Bill's Bond Syndicate; or, A Fortune From a T'wo-Cent Stamp. | 423 , (A Wall Street Story.) 424 FAME AND F LATEST ISSUES—— 4 at ORTUNE WwEERKI.Y ' 899 The Boy Who Vanished; or, The Treasure of the Incas. : 400 A Born Broker; or, The Success of a Wall Street Boy aon ee See nay 208s ONE on DB Gace aie Beocene 401 Striking a Good'Thing; or, College Chums in Business. 877 The Way to famRT oF ‘the Ss pyr oy Wall Street. 402 Among the ‘Sharks’; or, The Lights and Shadows of Wall Street. 878 In the Mo Catena Th uccess of a Young Dramatist. 403 In Business for Himself; or, The Lad Who Made the Money. 879 A Golden Ae ame; or, The Luck of Two Wall Street Chums. 404 Charlie of the Curb; or, Beating the Money Brokers. 380 Hal's Busineso Vou or, The Mystery of An Old Trunk. 405 A Million in Rubies; or, The Richest Find in the World. Bat. Te 8 Business Venture; or, Making a Success of Himself. 406 Tom, the Bank Messenger; or, The Boy Who Got Rich. tee prone. the Man-Eaters; or The Secret of the Golden Ledge, 407 Contractor Bob; or, Fighting for a Big Job. . oe A Street Speculator; or, The Boy Who Became a | 408 A Nervy Deal; or, The Boy Who Bought a Railway. wes ne or 409 In the Newspaper Game; or, The Rise of a Cub Reporter. 883 Old Hazard’s Errand Boy; cr, The Nerve That Won the Money. | 410 Up\to the Minute; or, From Office Boy to Broker. (A Wall Street aia y .884 Check 765; ‘or, The Strangest Tip in Wall Street. Story.) 885 A Short Cut to Fortune; and The Smart Boy Who Found It. 411 Full of Business; or, 'The Young Traveler for the Firm. 886 Broker Brown's Boy; or, A Tough Lad from Missouri. (A Wall | 412 Baffling the Brokers; or, The Boy With the Iron Nerve. (A Wall Street story.) eis AR vite Story.) 887 The Odds Against Him; or, A Boy With Grit. er a Square Deal; or, The Richest Claim in the West. 888 A Boy With Brains; or, A Fortune From a Dime. (A stocy of 414 sabe wanectcs or, The Coin that Brought Him Luck. (A Story 889 Hi - “¥ reet.) ‘ 415 Bound to Make His Mark; or, Running a Moving Picture Show. s Own Business; or, From Errand Boy to. Boss. 416 Ed, the Office Boy: or, The Lad Behind the Deals. (A Wall Street ee ae mec a The See aceriene Roy From Cripple Creek. Story.) er a Missing Million; or, The ‘Treasure uf the Wreck. 417 Lost in the Balkans; 7 7 spondent. 892 A Boy Irom the Streets; or, ‘fhe Old Broker's Protege. (A story | 418 Plunging to Win; Be he ee na Wk onan es The Young Shipper; or, The Boy Who Was Always on Top. Beating the Bucketshops; or, Breaking Up a Crooked Game. A story of Wall Street. Fighting for Fame; or, The Struggles of a Young Author. Stocks and Bonds; or, The Firm With a Grip on the Market. A Stranded in the City; or, The Boy with a Head for Business. Getting the Coin; or, The Luckiest Lad in Wall Street. For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address on receipt of price, 5 cents per copy, in money or postage stamps, by FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, - - 16% West Zod St., New York. IF YOU WANT ANY BACK NUMBERS of our weeklies and cannot procure them trom newsdealers, they can be obtained from this office. direct. Write out and fill in your Order and send it to us with the price of the week lies you i POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN THE SAME AS MONRY, you want and we will send them to you by return mail FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, : - 168 West 23d St., New York. ou RR TEWNW- No. 1. NAPOLEON’S ORACULUM AND DREAM BOOK.—Containing the great oracle of human destiny; also the true meaning of almost any kind of dreams, together with nee ceremonies, and curious games of cards. No. 2. HOW TO DO TRICKS.—The great book of magic and card tricks, containing full instruction on all the leading card tricks of the day, also the most popular magical illu- sicns as performed by our leading magicians; every boy should obtain a copy of this book. No. 3. HOW TO FLIRT.—The arts and wiles of flirtation are fully expiained by this Hitnle book. Besides the various methods of . Handkerchief, fan, glove, parasol, window and hat flirtation, it contains a full list of the language and sentiment of flowers. No. 4. HOW TO DANCE is the title of this little book, It contains full Instructions in the art of dancing, etiquette in the ball- room and at parties, how to dress, and full @irections for calling off In all popular square dances. No. 56. HOW TO MAKE LOVE.—a com- plete guide to love, courtship.and marriage, giving sensible advice, rules and etiquette to be observed, with many curious and interest- ing things not generally known. No. 6. HOW TO BECOME AN ATHLETE. —Giving full instruction for the use of dumb- bells, Indian clubs, parallel bars, horizontal bars and various other methods of developing a good, healthy muscle; containing over sixty illustrations. No. 7% HOW TO KEEP BIRDS.—Hand- somely illustrated and containing full instruc- tions for the management and training of the canary, mockingbird, bobolink, plackbird, paro- oquet, parrot, etc. No. 9. HOW TO BECOME A VENTRILO- QUIST.—By Harry Kennedy, Every intelli- gent boy reading this book of instructions can master the art. and create any amount of fun for himself and friends. It is the greatest book ever published. No. 10. HOW TO BOX.—The art of self- defense made easy. Containing over thirty {illustrations of guards, blows, and the differ~ ent positions of a good boxer. Every boy ghould obtain one of these useful and instruc- tive books, as it will teach you how to box without an instructor. No. 11. HOW TO WRITE LOVE-LETTERS. —A most complete little book, containing full directions for writing love-letters, and when when to use them, giving specimen letters for young and old. No. 12. HOW TO WRITE LETTERS TO LADIES.—Giving complete instructions for writing letters to ladies on all subjects; also letters of introduction, notes and requesta, No. 13. WOW TO DO IT; OR, BOOK OF ‘For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address on receipt of price, 10 cts. per copy, or 3 for 26 cta., in money or postage stamps oy FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, - ETIQUETTE,—It is a great life secret, and one that every young man iesires to know all about. There’s happiness in it. No. 14. HOW TO WAKE CANDY.—A complete hand-book for making all kinds of candy, ice-cream, syrups, ¢usences, etc., etc. No. 18. HOW TO BECUME BEAUTIFUL. —One of the brightest and most valuable little books ever given to the world. Every- body wishes’ to know how to pecome beauti- ful, both male and female. The secret is simple, and almost costless. No. 20. HOW TO ENTERTAIN AN EVEN- ING PARTY.—A complete compendium of games, sports, card diversions, comic recita- tions, ete., suftable for parlor or drawing- room entertainment. It contains more for the money than any book published. No 21 HOW TO HUNT AND FISH.—The most complete hunting and fishing guide ever published. It contains full instructions about guns, hunting dogs, traps, trapping and fish- ing, together with de¢biription of game and fish. No. 22. HOW TO DO SECUND SIGHT.— Heller’s second sight explained by his former assistant, Fred Hunt, Jr. Explaining how the secret dialogues were carried on between the magician and the boy on the stage; also giv- ing all the codes and signals. o. 28. HOW TO EXPLAIN DREAMS,— This little book gives the explanation to all kinds of dreams, together with lucky and unlucky days. No. 24. HOW TO WRITE LETTERS TO GENTLEMEN,—Containing ful! directions for writing to gentlemen: on all subjects: No. 25. HOW TO BECOME A;GYMNAST.— Containing full instruetions for all kinds of gymnastic sports and athletic exercises. Em- bracing thirty-five illustrations. By Professor W. Macdonald, No. 26. HOW TO ROW, SAIL AND BUILD A BOAT.—Fully illustrated. Full instructions are given in this little book, together with in- structions on swimming and riding, companion sports to boating. No, 27. “HOW TO RECITE AND BOOK OF RECITATIONS.—Containing the most popular selections in use, compiising Dutch dialect, French dialect, Yankee and Irish dialect pieces, together with many standard readings. No. HOW TO TELL FORTUNES,— Everyo! desirous of knowing what his fu- ture life or misery, wealth or poverty. You can tell by a glance at this little book. Buy one and be convinced. No. 29. HOW TO BECOME AN INVEN- TOR.—Every boy should know how inventions originated. This book explains them all, giv- ing example in electricfty, hydraulics, magne- tism, optics. pneumatics, mechanics, ete. - - - +p - - - lt bring forth, whether happiness. ENW rr HAWD BOOKS No. 30. HOW TO COOK.—One of the most instructive books on cooking ever published. It contains recipes for cooking meats, fish, game, and oysters; also pies, puddings, cakes and all kinds of pastry, and a grand collea- tion of recipes. No. 31. HOW TO BECOME A SPEAKER. —Containing fourteen illustrations, giving the different positions requisite to become a good speaker, reader and elocutionist. Aliso con- taining gems from all the popular authors of prose and poetry. No. 32. HOW TO RIDE A_ BICYCLE.— Containing instructions for beginners, chuice of a machine, hints on ae etc, A com- plete book. Full of practical {llustrations. No. 35. HOW TO PLAY GAMES.—A com- plete and usefu! little book, containing the rules and regulations of billiards. baxatelte. backgammon, croquet, dominoes, etc. No. 36. HOW TO SOLVE CONUNDRUMs. —Containing all the leading conundrums of the day, amusing riddles, curious catches and witty sayings. No. 38. HOW TO BECOME YOUR OW. DOCTOR.—A wonderful book, containing ted ful and practical information in the treatment of ordinary diseases and ailments common to every family.- Abounding in useful and effeo- tive recipes for genera! complaints. No. 39. HOW TO RAISE DOGS, PO: PIGEONS AND RABBITS.—A useful and iet structive book. Handsomely Sllustrated. No. 40. HOW TO MAKE AND SET TRAPS, —Inciuding hints on how to catch moles, weasels, otter, rats. squirreis and birds. Also how to cure skins. Coplously {liustrated. No, 41. THE BOYS OF NEW YORK END MEN’S JOKE BOOK.—Containing a great va- riety of the latest Jokes used by the most famous end men. No amateur minstrels ip complete without this wonderful little book. No. 42. THE BOYS OF NEW YORK STUMP SPEAKER.—Containing a varied as- sortment of stump speeches, Negro, Dutch and Irish. Also end men’s jokes. Just. thé thing for home amusement and amateur shows. — No. 43. HOW TO BECOME A MAGICIAN, —Containing the grandest assortment of mag- jeal illusions ever placed before the. public Also tricks with cards incantations, etc No. 44. HOW TO WRITE IN AN AL- BUM.—A grand collection of Album Verses suitable for any time and occasion; embrac- ing Lines of Love, Affection, Sentiment, Hu- mor. Respect, and Condolence, also ‘Verses Buitable for Valentines and Weddings. No, 45. THE BOYS OF NEW YORK MIN- STREL GUIDE AND JOKE BOOK.—Some thing new and very instructive. Every boy should obtain this book, as it contains ful) instructions for organizing an amateur min- strel troupe. : } - 168 West 23d St., New York.