Five Cent Wide Awake Library (vol. 1) (1879 01 04)
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. ad x Entered according to Act of Convress, in the year 1819,by FRANK TOUSEY, the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. @. Entered at the Post Office at New York, Y., as Becond: Claes Matter. <TAl | a SE FRANK TOUSEY, PUBLISHER, 18 Rose Streer, N. ¥. PRICE Vol. I | COMPLETE. | January 4, 1879. Subscription Price $2.50 per year, { 5 CEN'ES, j No. 52. a « 5 5 “Won't there be a pretty shine if you're cotched, “ What ?” asked Emily. Dick Lightheart’s Trials. |«::. “ Have you girls got any money ?” “T haven't; Henrietta’s got a sovereign, though, she The next moment he vaulted gra efully over the wall “But I don't mear to be. Shove up,” replied Dick, was going to buy something with.” and descended at the feet of Henrietta and his sister “That's your sort. Lend it me, Harry dear, and A SEQUEL TO DICK LIGHTHEART. Emily. look sharp, or we shall have old Mother Frump after lia $e bad Ott Dick!” they a ay oreath. anor could | us,’”” Bie eae S ° you.. If we're seen, we 3 © sent to bed without “Don't you lend it him, He never pays back again,” CHAPTER I. any dinner.’ By 8 exclaimed Emily. “Oh, you base girl,” replied Dick, with affected ir dignation. ‘‘What do you deserve? Go, degenerat “TI shall not do anything of the sort,” replied Emily. | child, and—and say your prayers.” “ Harry will, then.” The girls laughed. RAISING THE WIND. Tue next day, in the play-hour, Dick got hold of the servant, Sam Fuggles, who cleaned the boots, knives, pte,, and waited on table. YY’ \narley, awakened by the terrible din, poked his head through the curtain, and gazed in dismay at the chaos in the room, oa ” wall and tell “No, Ishall not either,” answered Henrietta. “I haven't got it here,” said Henrietta ; “it’s up- “ane ein aa sraponemacne” me oe “You know we're engaged, Harry dear, So you might stairs in my work-box. Sam did 80, and coming down, reported the coast | as well.” Getit. Wrap in up in paper, and throw it over the ear. » “It would Ng so; all the other girls will see,” re- yn nallt Know Fou"we gota ~ “There ain’t no Miss Bodmin about, sir,” he said, | plied Henrietta. “How shal ow you've tpg “Bp ’ ippin; ayin “Let them ; they'll only be envious and wish they I'll sing ‘ Bonnie Dundee’ when I nave it,and you's — ee ie Pg sr a eat aa tae sane tnanes. Never mind, if you won't I can’t | know it has been safely landed,” replied Dick. ~ “All right,” replied Dick. “Give us a leg tp. I’m |help it, I'l) fancy it done, and that’s the next best} “ Run, Dick, the door is opening. It’s Miss Bodmin,” going over.” . thing. But I say I want something. eried ys ; -
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. "I’m off. Bless you, my children,” answered Dick, See up a truittree, and regaining his own play- ground betore he was observed. . In ten minutes a pieee of paper Carnie over the wall, Dick sayitig, “ Dundew, hé-is mounted; he rides up the street.’ ; ; : ’ . “He was happy, for the money was: coming in, and he ‘was sure of his expenses on the ensuing Monday. ~ Starting off to look for Messiter, he did not see Cocky Armond who was playing at marbles, and the conse- qnence was he tumbled over him. ~ “This won't do, Cocky,” he exclaimed. “Why don’t you look where you are coming to?” re- sponded Armond. Dick kicked the marbles out of the ring. *Oan you oblige me with some tripe,” he said, “ or a cow heel ?’? “JT daresay you think it very fiinny to chaff me about what some one told you my father is, but it’s not true. He isn’t 4 tripe-dresser,” said Armond, flushing angrily. ~ * Perhaps he can cut a rope.” “ru tell you what I can-do, I can hit you in the eye.” ; As he nk he struck out at Dick, who stepped back. “You didn’t do it,my boy,” he said with a provoking mn.’ “What's the row ?’? asked Messiter and Fowler com- up. ‘Why Armond’s going to give Lightheart a thrash- ing for cheeking him,’’ exclaimed Conolly, who was an Armondite. ** Perhaps you'd like one «You can't give it me.” In an an instant, Conolly and Fowler were fighting, and qick and Armond also came to close quarters. “Row, row!” cried Fowler. “Lighthearts to the rescue!" ~ . . “Amill, a mill!’ exclaimed Gordon, a boy about Fowler's age; “ Armondites! Armonflites ! Mill! mill !’" ““Mind your eye,’’ said Fowler, as lie rolled his an- bs ng over. * In a moment, boys camé up from all parts of the playground. The oe elena Dattle-royal between the two_fac- tions had broken out at last, and through an accident, asis the nature of such things, yourself,” said Fowler. CHAPTER Il, ~ | “ARMONDITES AND LIGHTHEARTS. **CoME on, my boys. Who cut the rope? Pitch into the tripe and cow heel,”’ shouted Dick. The rival parties took up the cry of * Who cut the rope ?’’ and the battle became general. Brabazon and Chapman ranged themselves on Dick’s side as they were devoted Lighthearts, In fiveminutes the Armondites were getting the worst of it They retreated to the school-room door, and there made a stand. Dick rushed in at Armond, who was fighting well. He succeded in in catching him round the neck. “Now Cocky,” he said, ‘how do you find yourself now I’ve pat the hug on.” _ Armond was in chancery, and a shower of blows coming down upon his face like rain, gaye him a con- fused idea ofthings in general, \ es Armond contrived to wriggle himself out) of Dick’s grasp and fell to the ground, where he lay still, not at- mpting torenew the combat, - His followers rallied round his body, and made a desperate struggle to drive back their assailants, At this moment Mr. Simeox, who had ‘been alarmed by the noisb, rushed info the ti phere y “A melancholy spectacle of black eyes, out: lips, and. bleeding noses mat his astonished get ; “Boys, boys!” he exclaimed in his most awful voice, what is this?” sae Dick wap in the act of pitching into a big boy when m. : : , a3 if by mafic. - the sound reached Everyone desiste a “Please, sit,’ said Dick, coming forward with an eye » that was beginning to close, and’a mouth that had already swollen, ‘it’s a new game.” Z é « \ what?’ demanded-the head master. “A new game, sir. We eall it Armondites and Light- hearts, but we lost our tempers, sir, and hit too hard.” “How do you play it? s eect “Armond ‘and I toss up to choose sides, sir, and then his men and my men try to-catch each other. Just like prisoner’s base, but we lost ourtempers, as I said, and someé of us got intoreal instead of sham fighting.”” Mr, Simcox was only half convinced. t _.. “It is a bad sort of game,” he said, “ and I forbid you toplay itagain. Do you hear?” , Bless me, what a sight you are.” ‘simi, Simeow, "and lot me: hear no . Here is my han exclaimed Arm. I don’t min DICK LIGHTHEARTS TRIALS, @ sweep or 4 crossing-sweeper, if he’s honesé; but I must decline the honor on the pkrésent oceasion,’’ re- plied Dick, stiffly. “What's the cause of this feud between Armond and yourself?’’ inquired Mr. Simcox. “He tried to kill me atthe gymnasium, sir. know the story,” «Ah, ah!’ exclaimed Mr. Simcox. “That isa dis- puted point. He accuses you, and you accuse him, when, after all, it may have been the fault of an old rope.” “This too, bad of Lightheart to try and injure me again by speaking ill of ine !’’ exclaimed Armond. “He You and TI should only feel annoyed if he misled you, sir.” “A truly Christian spirit. Very good. I commend you, Armond. Now run and wash your face. ‘This must not occur again. You know the high opinion I have of you, Armond,”’ ‘ “Thank you, sir.”” “Tf yoware set upon again, call me,’’ “7 will, sir.’’ “Do not lower yourself by fighting like @ Dlackguard. Call me, I'am head master in this school, and you sliall see that I will maintain my authority.” Bending a flerce look upon Dick, the professor strode away, leaying Armond the masterofthe situation. “You're a nice, whining, hypocritical sort of cur, said Dick ; ‘and, if 1 had not given you such a hiding, T should feel tempted to soil my hands once more with your ugly mug.” “Tt will be best for you, Lightheart, to keep quiet. You heard what Mr. Simcox said,” answered Armond. “Get out,” continued Dick; “get out of my sight, or, upon my. soul, I shall kick you.” r Armond thought it advisable fo go away, which he did, with a pious snuffle. But in his heart, the vengeance and hatred that had i /most mercifulaman in the Bible?” been for a long time gathering against Dick, increased tremendously. “He's my enemy,” thought Dick; ‘and anything I can say or do, won’t make him hate me less.” The Lighthearts had given the Armondites a thorough thrashing, as the bruised faces at the dinner-table suf- ficiently testified. The masters were greatly shocked and scandalized, but as the whole school was to blame, they couldn’t punish so many. Owing to Dick's cleyer excuse, not even the ring- leaders were singled out, But pains and penalties were pened again. Eyen the Honorable Brabazon put his gentility on one side, and received # black eye. Dick and Messiter were both knocked about, and they tried everything they could think of to get their fates well by Monday. : It'was the day of the /ete, when their great scheme was to be put into execution, As the time drew near, their hearts beat high. Dick prepared the letter in imitation of his father’s handwriting, and kept it in his desk. It. was his intention to slipitinto the letter-box on Monday morning early. ; This would make it appear that a servant had brought it fromthe Bedferd- Hotel, and had Jett it, not ‘thinking an answer was necessiry. _~ CHAPTER III. THE “GYM” aT WORK, On Saturday, Mr. Suarley was in a very good temper. He went out with the boys to the cricket-field, and condescended to take an innings, making the wonder- ful score of 0. ‘ 5 j Howas loudly cheered: when he took his bat back to the tent, where Messiter was scoring, Pe 4 “ Got a duck, sir?’ said Messiter, grinning. — “ As you say, Messiter,” he replied, “put me down a duck’s egg. Ihave obtuined a cypher. It is the for- tune of war. Make alittle room on that bench, please. threatened if it hap- Lam inclined to sit down, and have no wish to exert’ myself much, as on Monday I go out.’* “Go out, sir ?’” “Yes, Itis what I call my holiday, I have asked fora day, and Mr. Simcox has kindly given me one.” “What shall you do, sir?” asked Messiler. we He thought of hisiutended outing with Dick, and hoped sincerely that Mr. Snarley would not'go in any, direction where he might meet with him. “Unfortunately,” replied Mr. Snatley, ‘my friends live in Gloucestershire, so that I shail not be able to 'sea them. I see a fete advyortised at the Swiss Gardens, ‘Shoreham. Probably I may take a trip down there.”? “Oh! quickly. “And why not?” 7 i “Awfully slow; wonldn’t interest you, sir. It’s a leasure garden. I went there once, and didn’t care ‘or it at all.’ $ jas “Well, do we not want pleasure and relaxation when we take a holiday?” said Mr. Snarley. “If the bow is always bent, what happens ?’” “Tt breaks.” , “Of course it does. - Therefore we must occasionally | unstring it. Iam decidedly in favor of going into the Swiss Gardens. There will be singing in the theater. Isaw the name of Miss Mountserrat in the bills, and] knows very well he cut the rope; hutI forgive him, ‘less severe than I wouldn’t go there, sir,” said Messiter, |: Se -Think §0 2” replied Dick, “Og! Who's Og?” “Og, the King of Bashan, sir, for his mercy enduretia forever,” saia Messiter, “Absurd. You have made a mistake; that phrase, which continually occurs in one of the Psalms, has no» connection sig nae : ¥ Fortunately. for Messiter, it was lis turn to go in: and, being called by the captain of his eleven, he made his escupe from Mri Snarley, much to his delight. When the stumps. were drawn and the boys were going home, Messiter communicated his news to Dick “Snarley’s got a day out,” he said. ; e “Well, what of it?” replied Dick, ee “Ho's going to moon about in Brighton,* All the better’? a ‘He's seen the advertisement of the fete at the Swiss Gardons, and thinks of going there to seo Miss Agathe. Mountserrat, about whom old Slocum, rayes and says he’s awfully spooney.”” “What, my Polly! Slocum spoons on my Polly!’ exclaimed Dick; indignantly. “You’ve'got Henrietta. You.don’t want two.? “TI don’t know, Variety is always charming,” said Dick, ¢arelessly. “Suppose Henrietta lets me down, E can fall back on Polly, and vice versa,’ He did not like the idea, however, of Snarley going tax Shoreham, *‘Didn’t you try to choke him off when he told you ?”” he asked, “Yas, rather,” replied Messiter, “I said I had heard it was not the sort of place to suit him,” ‘It's too good for him,” replied Dick,“ But I'll ten. you what we'll do, if he does go.” “What?” . “We'll get old Hopkins, that's Polly’s father, you. know, to help us, and we'll ‘capture’ Snarley_ and pute him in @ carayan, and make him the wild man of the: woods, and show him at a penny ahead.” “Oh, Dick,” said Messiter. “Do. you think I wouldn't do it?” Dick asked, : “Not for a moment. You always doa thing if you: say you wil]. “He shall be the natural phenomenon, or wild man of the woods, I tell you, caught in his native forests,. somewliere up South America way. He has eaten more-~ men than he can digest, and -his temper has become, worse in consequence!” aS “Won't it be splendid!” exclaimed Messiter. “They were walking behind the other boys, whow were hastening home, earrying bats, balls, stumps, pads and other things:they had taken with them.’ Suddenly a man who leant ona stick as he walked touched Lightheart on the shoulder. “Hallo! what's your game?” cried Dick. “Don’t you know me ?’’ said the man. “HangedifI dol Yet, stop a bit; I’ve seen you somewhere,” i Dick tapped his forehead, as if he was trying to re member, alt ‘ “T was at Mohammed’s place, in Castle Square.”* “Of course ; you're the gym. You're the altendany —name of Jackson—I know you now ; glad to see you about again, my dear fellow, heartily glad !” said Dick,, shaking his proffered hand comttely The gymnasium attendant smiled, and replied : “Tam the gym, as you call rile, and I’m pleased too think I’m getting along so well. My injuries aremuch. suspected,” “It's a pleasure tome to see you,” continued Dick, because your speaki to me proves that. you don’t. really think that I did the dirty, shabby trick which laid you up.” j BB ae “I know you didn’t,” replied Jackson. “You can’t know itfora fact, but you feel positive- it was Armond. Isthafit?’ . f “That's it,’ answered the gym, “and Ihaye to thank: you all for your kind subscriptions. I'm, not well off, and my friends: ha poor. .My illness would have beem. a serious blow if Lhad not had some money.” _ “Tf you want any more l’ve got some 106se"eash, old- fellow, and you're welcome to it. “Perhapssit will do you a8 much good as Oko Jumbo,”’ 2 Jackson smiled at this remark, though he did not see the joke, and answered: - ‘Thank you, I’m all right at present. “But I wanted tose. you to tell you that I bave been thinking a good deal while Iley on my sick bed, and I'm determined op punish Mr, Armond for being the cause of my acci- ent. Fe NIRS os ‘ ‘He meant the trap for me,” replied Dick. _ -."Tknow hemeant the trap fer you/’ said Jackson, “ but ell into it. Yau, too, ave talon th Z t the esti- mation of your companions, for he has circulated the» ‘our back.” most imfamous reports about ia mm. “A h do's thing like. the er, I'ma Mr, Slocum, who has seen her, thinks her very mice.’ 5 | is; “Dick's Polly,” thought Messiter. “ And now let us improve the’ occasion,” continued '|)Mir. Snariey: ‘(In the! intervals of scoring) FoR : asd 55 _.. * | answer me questions in Scripture history, in) whict ands and be friends t There !\|-yoti.are very atk ‘ard, andif you,do not improve yo will never pass your examination.” 5) oj) ‘Messiter groaned inwardly. 5 Z «Tell ma now," said Mr. Snarley, “Merciful man, sir ?—Og.”” | you’re har d Jour porae sete SSE apie ate ndi ae aon fang ou "Ou by Wire in,” said Di so J
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‘ne ee ‘He shook hands with Jackson, as they were nearly home and said: “ T can’t ask you in, as it isn’t my own house, you understand; and I can’t ask you to have a drink either, because our usher would drop down upon me. must take the will forthe deed. You meet me when I’m out on the loose, and seeifI won’tdo what’s proper and handsome,” Jackson déclared that he wanted nothing but his | friendship and good will, and walked back again. “ That gym is a good sort,”" remarked Messiter. * First-class,” replied Dick. “I’m awfully pleased he doesn’t think I cut the rope, and [hope he will find mond out. For although Mr.Simcox has not ac- cused me of doingit, more from want of evidence and proof than any feeling of good-will, he and several ~ others believe me guilty.” “Give a dog a bad name and hang him,” said Mes- siter. “ You mean that I have got the reputation of being a scapegrace, and on that account everything that is bad and suspicious is put down to me.” “Live it down.” “Tye a good mind to turn missionary,” said Dick, “and go out myself to Oko Jumbo.” Messiter laughed at this, and said he thought he would soon wish himself back again. When Monday came, they were glad to see that the bruises they had received in the fight between the Armondites and Lighthearts had disappeared, so that they could appear in public with a presentable ap- pearance, Early in the morning, Dick slipped the letter he had written in his father’s handwriting into the letter-box, With a beating heart he waited the result. CHAPTER Iv. OFF ON THE SPREE, Ir was half-past nine when Sam Fuggles, the servant, came into the playground where the boys were amus- ing themselves before ten o’clock school, “ Master Lightheart, sir,” he said, “What is it, Sam?” replied Dick. -* Goyernor wants you at once.”’ “ Coming, Sam,’’ said Dick. 3 He guessed what he was wanted for and felt sure that his clever, if not strictly honest, device was already as good as successful.” Mr. Simcox was in his study, the remains of a sub- stantial breakfast were upon the table, and he was reading a morning paper, while he indulged in his early pipe, for smoking was one of his pet weaknesses. “Oh! Lightheart,”’ said Mr. Simcox, “your father has arrived in Brighton toraday or two, and wishes you to spend afew hours with him.” “Has he been here, sir?” asked Dick, innocently. “No, he has written.” “May I go, sir?” “You may,’’ replied the professor. “Your conduct has improved lately, and I gladly give you the holiday for which your respected father asks in his note.” As a matter of fact, Dick had not greatly improved, put he had not been found out so frequently of late. “Thank you, sir,’” he said. ~ “Oh! and you may take your friend Messiter with you. The Rey. Mr. Lightheart mentions his name, and prefers a request to that effect,” continued the professor. ys be yey well, sir, I will tell him.” “You can start as soon as you like, and you must be home by ten o’clock, if not before.” . Dick promised to remember this, and, wild with de- light, went to seck Messiter,to whom he communi- - efited the good news. They went to their dormitory and quickly changed their clothes. — ~~ Each wore a hat and put on lavender-colored gloves, and carried a small cane in his hand. “Oh |-my; you are toffs,” said Sam, as he saw them going out. “We mean if this time, Sam,’’ replied Dick. “Tfyon young gents ain’t up to mischief, I’m mis- taken.””~ © ‘ “Not we, Sam; we're too, quiet and innocent,” Dick said, with a wink. - ; “Yes, you are—over the left,” replied Sam, grin- as'oatley gone?” ; «This hour or more, sir. He don’t often have a day out, and when he does, he likes to make the most of it.”” “ Perhaps he'll never come back, Thad @ bad dream about him,” said Dick, ; f “Now I know there’s something on,” exclaimed ’ . ‘Oh, Master Lightheart, you are a born imp for ity. boys started on thelr ng to é@ his father, Master Messiter said,” re- Been t guia on There's @ game on. ; yam J ng to see my father, There’s a game on. “Ob, he tas treaty that young Tightheart.” Bee ‘his’ ther! SoIshould think?” © y _/ “Off on the spree, boys, off on the spree; we'll have a halts cock.” ing gas Then he went_on, humming gayl Gardens, hav: ue eit, ee n Le at : d ys, down by the ‘séay Strike up, Harry, you're 5 ) the ‘they took ee tickets for S50 you | between explosive bursts of laughter. fa- | round in a is they walked along the Parade, Dick began to sing, | | DICK LIGHTHEARTS TRIALS. | half-past eleven when they found themselves at the en- trance of the Swiss Gardens, and gained admission by payment of one shilling. They went into the beautiful grounds, and admired the lovely autumm flowers and the various buildings, | chiefly made of wood in the Swiss style,and the winad- ing paths, with quaint little bridges over the water, and atter they had gone everywhere, they stopped in front of an inclosure where a large balloon lay safely at its moorings, “Pull up here,’’ said Dick. The balloon was to ascend in the afternoon, under the skillful guidance of its owner; the car was at- tached, and seemed capable of holding four people. At one side of the big: balloon, which was called the Montgolfier, were half a dozen small pilot balloons, Suddenly Messiter said: “There's a pretty girl, Dick.’ A glance in the direction indicated by Messiter showed him that it was Miss Agatha Mountserrat, otherwise Polly. Dick was going up to speak to her, when he beheld a gentleman shuftling after her, as she strolled slowly along. This was Mr. Snarley. There was no mistake about it. He had got himself up in a white hat, a blue silk necktie, and yellow-looking gloves, all of which maile his rather ungainly figure and features the more striking. ry Pulling Messiter’s arm, Dick withdrew behind a shrub, saying : “It won't de to let him see us at present, asit would spoil all our fun.” “So it would,” answered Messiter. ance he should come here.” “It’s a bore; but we'll send him home,” “ How ?”” “Oh! half-drown him or something,” replied Dick, adding: ‘‘ Look, he’s speaking to Polly.” “Ts that your Polly ?” “Yes, Isn’t she pretty ?'said Dick. “T should think she was, too,” replied Messiter, with enthusiasm. Mr. Snarley made bold to address Polly, closé to where the boys were concealed. “Ah! pardon me,my young lady!’’ he said. “I—I have an appreciation of—ahem !—talent, and—and I have been given to understand that you are—ahem !—Miss Agatha Mountserrat.”” ° “That’s my name, sir,’”’ replied. the divine Polly, re- garding the strange, scarecrow-like figure before her with considerable amusement. “Ah, thank you,” he continued. ‘‘May I—ahem !— if itis not too early in the morning, invite you to—to partake of a glass—ahem!—of sherry, say sherry wine?” “No, Iam obliged to you; another time,” she replied. “At least allow meto walk by your side while you promenade the lovely gardens.” «‘Sir,”? said Polly. Dick turned to Messiter, and said: “IT can’t stand this! stay where you are.” He had drawn a small fish-hook from his pocket, in which he generally kept a little arsenal of all the things a schoolboy may or may not want. With wonderful rapidity he cut the rope of one of the small pilot balloons, and attached the gut of his fish-hook to the end of the string. Then he crept across the path, till he got behind Snarley, and contrived to stick the hook in the rim of his hat, The balloon caught a breath of air. * There was a tug, and away went Snarley’s new white hat, sailing gayly over the garden towards the pathless sea, ; : His bald head was revealed in allits shininess. Dick retreated, and joined Messiter again. Mr. Snarley uttered a dismal shriek, and said ; “My hat; oh! my hat. Fitfor the races. This style ten-and-six. Halt a-guinea gone at one swoop, and I'am bare-headed ; but how the dickens did it go?” Polly laughed, and though she liad not been inclined to speak to. him a minnte ago, she now said; _ “The pilot balloon must have broken loose, and some- how it caught your hat.’’ j es Snarley at a little distance beheld a shooting allery. ~ ; : : To rush to it and snatch up a rifle did not take him ong. Hos eS rsee ' Leveling the gun at the runaway balloon, he fired and missed. ~ 2 “<« Good idea, sir,’’ exclaimed the proprietor of the gal- lery, “but a bad shot. Yot'llneyer hit it; your hand shakes too much.” “Do you try; ashilling for your trouble.” “Spring a bob, sir. Make it a florin.” «“ Vire, fire, or it, will go out to sea, and become the prey of some rascally Frenchman. Don’t waste precious time in talking,” shrieked Mr. Snarley: The man ran down the path after the balloon’ and fired, once, twice, thrice. The third shot hit the side, “What a nuis- the air rushed out, and as the prepared paper collapsed, thehat descended with a run. - - But not on the solid ground. a : It fell on the lake, and began to float round and ful manner. Pima, ge pall As he had expected, Mr, Snarley. had stopped to pay | the rifle man for bringing down his hat, and the man | not being able to leave his galery had directed him to the oid boat on the lake, telling him to row aiter and recover his property. ax: Polly had accompanied him to the waters’ edge, and | Dick heard her say: ‘“*‘T am sorry you should have lost your hat while talking to me,” : “What are hats ?"’ replied Snarley, in.a tragi¢e yoice ; “what is the universe in comparison with’”— “Ifyou stop to pay me high-flown cempliments,”’ she: interrupted, ‘your hat will sink, and that will be an additional punishment to you for speaking to strangers in pleasure gardens.” “Angelic being”’ began Snarley, “Don’t you make me laugh. I dare say you have got wife at home.” - “Divine creature lear me swear!" exclaimed Snar- ley, laying his hand on his heart. “No; you musn’t do that. Ishan’t like you if you swear. Look after your hat.” Dick did not like this flirtation, sole threw a stone at Snarley's hat, which striking it on the crown made. it to spin. round in a most intoxicated manner. A hbhungry-looking swan approached it as if he thought it was something good to eat. “My hat; [must have it,” groaned Snarley. ‘Boys are throwing at it, and swans peck it with their bills. Behold me, Agatha, abowt to embark in that crazy. boat, and if you never see. me more, drop one tear to the memory of a distracted being with whom to see was to- admire you—to admire to love you.” . With this impassioned speech, which he thought would make a great impression upon the fair Mount-_ serrat, Snarley jumped into the boat and pushing her off with one of the sculls, he drifted towards the hat. CHAPTER. V. DICK RENEWS HIS ACQUAINTANCE WITH POLLY, “T SHALL soon recover my hat,” said Mr. Snarley to, himself, : He settled himself down to his work, and tucked. up his sleeves so as to be better able to use the sculls. “Ah!” he continued “a pleasant life is that on the ocean wave. Dear me, what a log this boat is. IHt- scarcely seems to me te move a bit.” Polly was regarding his exertions from the bank, and» he redoubled his efforts. “ ‘ “Make haste, sir,” she cried; ‘‘ your hat will sink.” ‘At that*moment’ Dick, who with Messiter was con- cealed behind some shrubs, threw @ stone at the hat, which hit it-on the side and niade it spin round like | a teetotum. . “Some one is throwing stones,’’ said Mr, Snarley. “My dear young lady, can you kindly inform me jwho is throwing stones at my hat ?’” : *] can’t see any one,” answered Polly. **It's very odd.” : ees “Why don’t you row harder?” asked Polly. “For the most simple of all reasons, 1 am unable. Ha! what is this? I peréeive water in the boat?” ©” “ Water !"’ echoed Polly. t= “ Yes. As Iam a sinner, the wretched old tub leaks. What is\to be done?” i fone j Aad “Pull harder, sir.” + “Tam trying todo so. My utmost efforts, however do not suffice to propel the hulk more than a yard a minute. Oh!” P< This exclamation was caused by his catching a crab, and falling back wards in the water which had accumnue . lated in the boat, with a great splash. The sculls fell on cither side and floated away from his reach, ‘ , ey When he got up, he was dripping wet, and pale with rage. Sout Se “This is too much,” he said. Swe un was: laughing until the tears ran down her | cheeks. 2 8 z = ‘ | larks with him. ‘« Here do I eome out for a day’s pleasure,” Mr. Snar- ley went on, “and I findit marred in this manner,” “ Shall I send some of the garden people to your — assistance, sir??’ asked Polly. E See eaves “Do so, if. you please, my’ dear young | and I~ shall be indebted to you. My. position is a most un-- pleasant and even alarming one,”’ replied Mr. Snarley. — She walked quickly away, but Dick, who had left” Messiter in the thicket, went after and inte: “Stop a bit, Polly,’’ he cried, - tones “What do you mean by calling me—oh Lightheart,” cried Polly, recognizing him, izing him. ‘Mister, please, Polly. You’re Auatha when yi mre 'in public, and I’m Mister when I’ve got a chimney- - pot hat on ahd go out forthe day.” . Re tors “Come with me,” she said, laughing. — to see you. But there isa poor gentleman at the lake, and he'll be drowned if he Is left to himsel The boat is leaky.’ Re aes Pe ee Pe “T know it.” ar ek “You knowit/? : “Yes, I pulled the plug out.” — “Oh!” said Polly, shocked. eaves fees “It’s our usher, Mr. Snarley, and we’ve been haying n. I fastened the pilot balloon to his tile. You let him alone; he wasn’t born to be drowned,” “ Poor man |” : 7a he eiee ““T want to talk water
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»“When I’ve seen the last of Snarley in his watery grave,” replied Dick. Polly shook her head at him ana ran away. “Don’t split about me, Polly,” cried Dick after her, “if youdo get him out.” She turned round, yave him a reassuring then was out of sight. Dick rejoined Messiter, “Well,” he said, ‘‘ how’s Snarley ?”’ “Bleating,” replied Messiter; “ hark af him.” In fact the usher was roaring for help at the top of Hiis voice. “Lhe boat was nearly full of water, and he sat on one of the seats with his arms round his knees, look- ing the personification of misery and despair. Luckily there was another boat in which a gardener “was able to pull off. “Hold tight, sir,” said the gardener. “It's all vety well to say hold tight when there is Mothing to hold to,’’ replied Snarley, and as he spoke the boat gave a lurch and capsized. Snarley was struggling in the water. He made a frantic grab at his hat, which bobbed away from him like a cork. Then with a groan he prepared to sink, but at the ritical moment the attendant came up with his boat -and seized him by the arm and dragged him in. Snarley lay down exhausted at the bottom. “J'll bring an action against you all,’’ he gasped. **J'll have the law of you.” “Ts that all your gratitude?’ replied the man. * Haven't I saved your life ?” “Took atthe state [ amin. Where’s my hat?” “Bother your hat; here’s the land; step out and don’t shake yourself on me,’’ the man said. Mr. Snarley bestowed upon him a withering look and -stepped sadly on shore. He was soaked through and through, and he was hat- less. Old Hopkins, Polly’s father, happened to be standing ‘by, watching the fun with some others who had been attracted by the usher’s cries. “What shall I do?” groaned Snarley, dismally. “J can give you achange, sir, while you haye your things dried,” said Hopkins. “ Do you belong to these gardens?’ answered Snar- ley. ‘‘ Because, if you do, I tell you fairly I mean to bring an action against you for putting people into leaky boats.’’ *T am engaged here, that’s all. I’ve got a show on at the theatre, and if you like to put on some property fogs, I'll have your own dried.” “Put on what ?” “Property togs. Pantaloon’s dress, or anything handy,” said Hopkins. “JT once had a clown’s on,”’ groaned Snarley. “ But T see what you mean, and am thankful to you.” « Besgars mustn’t be choosers, sir.”’ «Very truly. Lead on, my friend. You are a good Samaritan.’’ Hopkins conducted Mr. Snarley to a littleroom be- hind the stage of the theater which he was privileged to oceupy. _ There was another little room leading out of it, which was called the ladies’ dressing-room, In front of all was a larger apartment, which was dig- nified with the name of the green-room, in which the Yadies and gentlemen connected with the theater waited for the call. : All sorts of costumes lay about; and there were a sprite, a harlequin, two policemen, a fishmonger, a baker, and a Bond Street swell attiring themselves. “ We've got a bit of pantomime on,” said Mr. Hop- kins, by way of explanation. “Oh! have you ?” replied Snarley, shivering. **Where’s Groggles ?’”’ continued Hopkins, addressing the sprite. “Blind drunk, as usual, under the barin the gardens. They poked him under with a broom, to let him sleep it out in the shady cool,” answered the sprite. “Blow Groggles!’’ exclaimed Hopkins, savagely. “Nothing wrong, I hope,” replied Snarley. **Yos, there is, sir. I'm managex of this show, andas such pay Groggles one two-and-six every Saturday.” “ And the treasury never failed at two o’clock,’”’ put in the sprite. : “Nor nevyer»has since that thief, Captain Hanger look, and _, died,” replied Hopkins, “ But, sir, Groggles gets sys- _ tematic: » his screw. HW I don’t—I say, sir, hol de shies es y drunk.” “What is he?” “Pantaloon. In real life he’s\a rheumatic fisherman on the retired list, but it makes him do the ‘loon all the better.” Mr. Snarley’s teoth chattered. “Yt’s what I call ungrateful of Groagicss but I'lidock those castanets a- chattering. I forgot you were wet, all along of my in- dignation with Groggles. Take off your clothes and haye a wipe with a clean towel; then put on Groggle’s iat! the pantaloon’s?’ echoed Mr. Snarley, _ aghast. - “They'll save you from a severe cold, and are, at all events, betler than nothing.” Mr. Snarley yielded, though much against his will, and giving up his own clothes, which were hung against a fire lighted on purpose to dry them, put on those of the facetious drama. . ‘s too bad of Groggles,”’ continued Hopkins. re was he as ‘ard up as ’ard up could be, when 1 _ fust come here and took the theater.” “Was he?” said Mr. Snarley. DICK LIGHTHEARTS TRIALS. “That’s Groggles. He’s all bounce and outside show,” continued Hopkins. * And drink,” said the sprite. «“ Undesirable member of company, I should think,” continued Snarley. He was now dry and comfortable, and sat warming his hands before a good fire, which, owing to the state of the weather, was more agreeable to him than the rest of the company. “Not so bad apantaloon. That sort of talent’s scarce in the country,’”’ replied Hopkins. Is it?” “Yes. You don’t often get anyone to look the char- acter. But now I come to see you, sir, you seem ag if you were born a ’loon.” “T_T! cried Mr, Snarley. “ What do you mean?” “T’ve been connected with the profession, sir, all my life, and done more for it, perhaps, than it has done for me, and I know what’s what when I seo it, and I say you're every inch a pantaloon.” Mr, Snarley got angry. He snatched up astick, and his legs being a little shaky, tottered up to Hopkins, saying : ‘Take care, sir. Take care.” Hopkins leaned against the wall, and laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. “You can do it, sir,” he cried; “I knew you was an actor. I could see it in your eyes.” “Tan actar ?” “Yes. You can’t deceive me. You’ve played low comedy.” No)? «You have, and you've played farce.”” “Never!” exclaimed Mr. Snarley, emphatically. “And you’re well up in comic business,” pursued Hopkins. “T know no more than a baby.” “Yes, you do. Stash it. Modesty won’t do in our line. Look hero, sir. I'll stand a dollarif you'll take Groggles’s place this afternoon,and come in as pantaloon in ‘Harlequin My Lord Tom Noddy and the Fairy Cab- riolet.’ ”’ Mr. Snarley listened to this singular offer with amaze- ment, He go on the stage! . Take Groggles’s place! Play pantaloon! The idea was enough to take his breath away. CHAPTER VI, CLOWN AND PANTALOON. Horxrns was destined to be in trouble that day. No sooner was it discovered that Groggles was drunk andincapable, than a fresh misfortune was heard of. Lapchin, the clown, had followed suit. He was reported to be babbling childishly to himself over three of gin in a flowery arbor somewhere in the grounds. “No one knows what it is to be the manager of a show,” cried Hopkins. “Ishallturnitup. I'drather play the fiddle in the street for a living, or do the bones for a wandering minstrel troupe.” He rushed out to look for the unhappy Lapchin. Before going far, he met Dick and Messiter, who were carrying Snarley’s hat, “Gentleman's as was nearly drowned?” asked Hop- kins. “That's it,” replied Dick. ‘Take it tohim; we hear you've got himin tow. I rescued it from the waters of the lake ; but I say, Hopkins, old boy, don't you recog- nize me ?”” = “Give us your fist,” cried Hopkins; ‘‘you’re the since you sayed her life when we were circussing ?”” “You're right. vidual.” “Blowed if] should know my own father to-day, I’m that upset,” continued Hopkins. “ What’s up ?”” : “Up. Nobody’s up. They’re all down. It’s the last day. We close the show to-night, for it’s the end of the season, and the blessed company’s all getting drunk.” “That's bad,”’ said Dick. “Tt’s all my own fault. I shouldn’t have given them a treasury this morning at nine sharp.” “You paid them too soon.” “I did. They thought I might bolt in the night, and they pressed me for their last week’s screws before it was time to pay them. I yielded like a baby as Iam, and what’s the consequence 2?” Hopkins looked round him inquiringly. “The consequence is, that Groggles the pantaloon is drunk, ditto Lapchin tha clown.” ~ “What will you do?” “Half drowned gent’s dressed up in aees togs, and he's going to play pantaloon,” replied Hopkins. Dick’s eyes twinkled with delight. “Snarley going to play pantaloon !’ he said; “never.” ** He is, though. Do you know him ?” said Hopkins. “ Rather. He's our usher,” replied Dick. “Oh! if that’s it, Master Lightheart, I needn’t ask how he came into the pond.” “You mustn't tell him we're here, though; he doesn’t know it.” “ Hasn't he seen you ?” “Not yet. Wo’re his fate, but it’s the awful mystery of the hidden hand—twig?” - . “ Tsee,” replied Hopkins, “ We're on the spree,’ continued Dick. ‘Come and haye a drink, old man. Fee fete you like, from bitter beer, the simple and refreshing bitter, to champagne.” “T don’t mind a glass of shammy,” answered Hop- kins, “ It'll square me up a bit.” ; ‘‘ Come on, then, and I’ll make you happy.” “ How 2” ~ ; f _“ By loon.” I am that singularly fortunate indi- you'll come on the “Tthink you could do it. If a Peele hae: nr“ (stage with me, I'll put yon up to the business in ter minutes,” he said. z “Y’ve been to pantomimes, don't fret,” exclaimed Dick. ‘It’s only having larks with and bullying the pantaloon.”” “ That’s it. Bully him awful |” said Hopkins. “ Won't 1? If he don’t halloa a rum un when I begin with him, I'll go home and say I've been a bad boy,” answered Dick. : “ Then we'll leave Lapchin to drink as long as he likes. Let’s have the drink and we'll go behind,” Hop- kins said. They went toa bar, and Dick ordered refreshments. Messiter was left eating cold pie, while Hopkins and Dick went to the theater. : A little information was not lost upon him, Dick dressed on the stage and painted his face Mr. Snarley should not recognize him. : When he was ready, he went into the ordinary dress- ing-room and found Mr. Snarley getting very jolly over by hot grogs, which he took to keep the coid out. It was now two o'clock in the day, and the first per- formance had to begin. Hopkins hoped that Groggles and Lapchin would be sober enough to play by four, when the public were next admitted. Messiter, who had been gorging cold pies and tarts, took a froutseat in the stalls, and ate nuts and oranges inareckless manner. _ First Miss Agatha Mountserrat did some graceful dancing and sang some pretty songs. She was a woodnymph; anda satyr, who afterwards pee harlequin, followed her about and annoyed er. At length the bell rang and Dick, preceded by Mr. Snarley, rushed on the stage, harlequin and columbine appearing at the same time. **Hullo! here we are again, Snarley,”’ cried Dick. Dies gave hima slap on the face that made him spin round. 80 that * “Oh! my eye!” cried Snarley. “‘ Who told you to speak?” exclaimed Dick. The look of pain Snarley put on was indicative ofan apparent wish to please the audience, and they roared accordingly. From that moment, whenever Dick gota chance of kicking or hitting the unlucky pantaloon, he did it as hard as he could, His bones ached all over. Pantaloon had to climb through a shoemaker’s win- dow, but he stuck aiter he had got the upper part of his body through. Dick snatched the harlequin’s wand, and belabored his nether regions till he howled like a bull calf. When he cime off and stood near the clown in the wings, he said, rubbing himself dismally: 7 “What do you want to hit and punch and kick like that for ?’’ he . “«Tt’s business,’ replied Dick. 2 Snarley groaned, and was soon engaged in tryimg to discover which was the hardest, his head or a wooden turnip. At last it was over. - young school Bont Polly’s talked so much about ever, undertaking to play clown to Snarley’s panta- | Hopkins was startled at the proposition. wi Dick ran into the dressing-room and put under his arm Sacler:s dry clothes, which he madé intoa little parcel. . 3 He changed his own things in a little cupboard, and then ran out to the stage door, where he found Messi- ter. “ How did I do it?” asked Dick. “Ripping. Every yell Snarley gave wasreal, wasn’t it?’ replied Messiter. nx ‘Rather,’ “T think he twigged me. His eyes seemed to single me out in the stalls, and once I had a good mind to give him an orange on the nose.” “‘¥ don’t fancy he did see you. ness,’’ said Dick, - «What haye you got under your arm ?”’ “Snarley’s dry clothes. Find a half a brick,” said ” Dick. Bs “What for?” “To tie to themand sink inthe pond, Snarley must never see these togs again. Never,’’ answered Dick. “ How will he go home?” «In his professional attire.” “Oh, Dick,” exclaimed Messiter, ‘* how I shall laugh. You’ll be the death of me.” “Hope not,” said Dick. ‘You are young, and I haye some faint expectation of making a’man of you yet.” “Thank you.” 2 It was your neryous- They went to the side of the pond, and Snarley’s clothes found their last resting-place, “Now,’) said Dick, “I’m going to haye some dinner ~ in the refreshment saloon, Can you eat have you choked yourself up with trash ?” “Not quite.” anything, or “TI saw you gorging into nuts and things, whileI was doing clown.” ry , “We must not loose the balloon ascent,’’ said Messi- t) : acre ee. “Not for worlds, What time doesit start?” = — “Six, I think.” cep x: “Come and feed. ing at his watch. 5 They walked arm in arm to the saloon, sat down at @ table and called for the waiter, Sect i THE BALLOON ASCENT, * WarrEr,” said Dick, “‘ we want to vi dine.” “Yos, sir ; bill of fare, sir,’? replied the waiter, wit a napkin tucked professionally Se 3 one arm, Ww! i Bie ete money in his breeches pocket with his — other hand. — 3 Ore z23 | Ah! said Dick, with the eye ofa conaoi heran over Tist: if ' “spring” 80 ; we've lots of time,” said Dick, looke
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J aa kins. _ “Oh, Agatha’s father,” groaned Dick, ‘I didn’t think lobster sauce, er—ducks and green peas, er—lamb and grass, er—maccareni au gratin ala tomate, jellies, ice pudding, and er—bottle of Bordeaux, that at 42 shill- ings, and, er—ice, and plenty of it.’’ “Yes, sir; directly, sir,” said the waiter, hurrying off. LL You'can order a dinner, Dick, and no mistake,” ex- claimed Messiter. “Don’t you wish you hadn’t gone in for those pies and things?” “ve got acorner left. The waiter thinks you're a swell. -How he did look at you.” “So I am,” answered Dick, complacently. “Do you think you. will have money enough ?” Mes- siter inquired, anxiously. “ots. We haven’t touched the subscriptions for Oko Jumbo yet,” Dick replied, with a grin. When the dinner appeared, they did ample justice to it. Dick paid the bill, rewarded the waiter liberally, and chewing a toothpick, walked again into the gardens. The balloon was moored by a couple of ropes to the ground, which the car almost touched. - It was a comfortable wickerwork construction, and ‘Pick, with his usual impudence, got in. = ‘Oh, said Messiter, come out—do come out, Dick. fou’ll have the man it belongs to on to you.” “Tl give him five shillings to take me up with him,” answered Dick. ¥ *- Would you really go ina thing like that ?”’ “Why not? It’s safe enough, and the seat’s jolly comfortable.” “Ts it?” said Messiter, doubtfully. “Come in and try it.” With fear and trembling Messiter climbed in, and took a seat opposite Dick. “Now,” said tho latter, ‘ what is there to fear?” “Not much certainly, that I can see at present, but going through the air is different.” “What's that row ?”” suddenly said Dick. A great hubbub was proceeding from the back party} f the theater, which was not many yards off. “You've stolen my clothes,” eried a voice, raised in anger. “Who are you a-talking to about stealing ?” retorted Hopkins. “t's Hopkins and Snarley. Here’s a spree,’’ cried Dick delightedly. “7’l1 call the police,” continued Mr. Snarley, emerg- {ng from the dressing-room. “You keep me in here, make me work for you, and try to cause me to become jntoxicated on bad gin, while you steal my clothes.” “It's false.” “Tt’s true. Ihave heard of the tricks of you strolling players, but I°ll make an example of you. Police! Police 1’” “You're drunk,” said Hopkins; “that’s about the size of it, and I'll have to lock you up.” “Hal hal” cried Snarley, cutting a caper on the grass. “I defy you, villain, and all your myrmidons !” He looked extremely comical in his pantaloon’s dress, his tight-fitting wig, and his long peaky beard. 7 didn’t think I could laugh so much,’ observed Dick. : “He's tigit,” said Messiter. Reeling up to Hopkins, and snapping his fingers in his face, Snarley exclaimed : 2 “My clothes, miscreant, my clothes.” “Thaven’t got ’em. They’re vanished, and I thinkI _ know where they’re gone,”’ replied the showman. Where? ‘ell me your suspicions and I’ll forgive you,” said the usher, eagerly. “Two of your boys arein the garden,” replied Hop- you'd split on us.” It’s all up now,” said Messiter. “We shall be carried back to the house of bondage,”’ Dick said. “My boys!’ said Snarley. “Who, what, where? Name them—explain this mystery.” _ “One of themis Master Lightheart. He playedclown to your, pantaloon,”? “That accounts for the blows I received. Showman.”* Go on, Mr. “They're about somewhere. Now, if any one’s had “your things, it’s them,” ‘replied Hopkins. Messiter had a half-peeled orange in his hand. “Give it me,” whispered Dick. Taking it from him, he threw it dexterously at Hop- _ kins and hit him on the ear. ~~ “Don't you throw any oranges at me,” exclaimed Hopkins, squaring up to Snarley. i “T didn’t,” replied Snarley, “Tt came from the balloon,’ remarked a bystander. “Did it?” the usher replied, “Then the boys are - there; but how they got into the gardens I don’t know Ido—they had a holiday, Lightheart and Mes- se ‘Two twin imps, Mr. Showman.” “Help me to capture these aidacious culprits.” “Tshan’t help you. Goand talk to them; there they are seated in the cay of the b’loon, happy as bugs in a ee SE : See Snarley ran to the ropes which shut off the in- Osun. - The boys were distinctly visible. _ _“Ah! you Lightheart. Ah! you Messiter,” said Mr. Who are - Snarley, with concentrated anger, “come out of that.” you?” replied Dick, _ * Your usher.” rite “TI don’t believe you. My usher wouldn’t dress him- like a pantaloon.” i Bana oes, it was done to—a—propitiate the father of a lovely a—the beautiful Agatha Mountserrat. But Come out of that and help me recover my t. You’ye no right to order me about. rm ool now, | ete answered Dick, DICK LIGHTHEARTS TRIALS. “Then I will pull you out by your arms and your legs, and I will make an example of you,’’ said the usher. s He climbed over the ropes. Dick drew a knife from bis pocke& and leaning over the side of the car, began to cut away at something. “Oh! what are you doing?’ said Messiter, in alarm. “Sit perfectly still,” answered Dick, who was yery grave. ~ “The thing is beginning to wobble about.” “Tt will be allright presently, Take up one of those bags of sand at your feet, and shy it plump at Snarley, Make haste.” Messiter did as he was told. , The bag hit him on the nose, and he fell backwards sprawling. “Give him another.” Messiter did so, and this time he hit him in the stomach. “Oh!” groaned Snarley, getting on his hands and knees. ‘‘Whata thing it is to deal with a wicked and perverse generation, He has taken all my little stock | of wind.’”’ Suddenly the balloon began to rise in the air, The spectators shouted loudly. Rushing from the refreshment saloon, where he had er a beguiling his leisure moments, the proprietor ran out. He tore his hair. He raved and shrieked. His beautiful balloon was gone, and he might never see it again. ie ire him one on the nob and stop his row,” said HCK. : Messiter dropped another bag of sand on the pro- prietor’s head. It knocked his hat over his eyes, and he floundered about in utter darkness. “Stop! stop!’ cried Mr. Snarley, ‘ Misguided boys, hold your mad career; you will be killed. This is a disastrous day. Stop, sto’”—— He tell down again on his back, haying been struck by another bag of sand, which this time, falling from some height, stunned him. All was confusion and excitement in the gardens, Hopkins took hold of Snarley, and with assistance carried him toa fly, in which he placed him, . “Drive this gentleman to Harrow House School, Kemp Town, Brigliton,’”’ he said. ‘ He’s tight, and we can't have any more of his nonsense here, He li get locked up.” “Right,” said the fly driver. “Don’t you let him get out.” ** Nog I.” ell them at the school that I shall call for the psataloon’s dress to-morrow,” continued Hopkins. The flyman jumped on his box, and Mr. Snarley was driven off to Brighton. Tho blow he had received, the excitement, and the spirits he had swallowed, all combined to make Mr. Snarley drowsy. He did not wake until he was landed at Harrow House, about seven o’clock in the evening. The flyman knocked at thedoor which was opened by Mr. Simcox in person. Mr. Snarley was roused out. He ran up the steps. “Who are you and what do you want bere?” said Mr. Simcox. “Do you know me, sir ?’’ replied Snarley. “You are—yes, you must be my assistant teacher. But why this disguise? Once before you returned dressed asaclown, Isthisa joke? Is this done on purpose, sir?” : «No, sir,’”? ‘ “Ave you sober ?”” “Stand on one side,” cried Mr. Smarley, in a rage, Bren be kept on the steps for little boys to gibe at. He pushed his respected head master on one side and entered the house. “This conduct is pay reprehensible, sir,’’ said Mr, Simcox, shutting the door. “Do you want to fight?” cried Snarley. “Fight! bless me, no,” “Then don’t provoke. me too far. I can fight, by the driver and jumped | though I’ve had enough excitement for one day.” “ How did it happen ?”” “Young Lightheart was at Shoreham Gardens,” “Ah! With his father, I presume,” said the head master. ‘No; he and Messiter were by themselves, and they've done this for me.’’ «Where are they now? Why did you not bring them | back with you?” Mr. Snarley laughed wildly. “Ha! hal” « You laugh.’’ * “Yes, at the idea of bringing them back, when they’re off ina balloon. ‘Upina balloon, boys, up in a bal- loon, all among the pretty stars, sailing round the moon,’ as the song says.” “Mr. Snarley.’’ Sin 5 re “Again I must ask you, are you sober?” “Rubbish, I am all right,” replied the usher, “though this day Ihave gone through enough to con- sig any arenes man to a lunatic asylum.” : ‘e briefly told Mr, Simcox all that had happened, “Dear me. This is alarming news. The boys will be killed,”’ said the head master. Mr. Snarley was going to say: “A good job, too,” but he held his i; ‘ = Blncoxied the way into his sitting-room and produced wine and cakes. ; The usher drank sherry ont of a tumbler, helping « | himself two or three times, ice my head whirls. great perplexity Mr. Simcox walked up and down the room, i He had had no dinner that day, and the wine, added to his previous potations, took effect upon him. “Ts this prudent, Mr. Snarley ?’’ Mr. Simeox ventured to®remonstrate. He was filling his glass for the fourth time. “You be bothered,” replied Snarley. “Do you know who you're talking to, sir?’’ Mr. Sim- cox exclaimed, severely. “Tt you’re game for a dance, fair heel and toe, I’m your man. Come on,” answered Snarley. Receiving no response, he began to dance fantastically. Mr. Simcox looked on dismayed. ° Presently the door opered, and he waltzed into Mra, Simcox’s arms. Seizing her round the waist, he swung her round and round till he got giddy, and they both fell in a corner. Disengaging herself, Mrs. Simcox, breathless with in- dignation, said—* Well, hi never | he’s hon hagain.” “It’s Mr. Snarley disguised, my dear,”’ said her hus- Send him to bed band. “Disguised in liquor, the beast! and discharge him.” “Tmust think aboutit. At present IT am in a mist, What will become of those boys ?” In Mr. Snarley snored pleasantly, and Mrs, Simcox helped horself to sherry tocalm her nerves, CHAPTER VII. A VOYAGE THROUGH THE ATR. We're off,” said Dick, as the balloon shot up into the air. Messiter was about to throw out another bag of sand, of which there were several in the car. “Drop that,” said Dick. “Why ? Ican just plant a cove below beautifully on the nut.” " “Tt’s ballast, and the more you throw out the higher we go.” ve a fs that it?’ replied Messiter, fe EY “T’veread about balloon ascents, and you must letme be captain of this ship,’’ said Dick, They sailed gayly away over Brighton, and then over the open country of Sussex. At first they liked it. Their appearance created a sensation everywhere, and the boys turned out erying: “‘ Ah-bah-loon,ah-bah-loon!”” They could distinctly hear the shonts, and even the parking of a dog wag audible. At length there were no boys to shout, and the vil- lages were few and far hetween. till they went on, on, with a pleasant, gliding motion. “How is this looking glum, ‘ Blessed if I know,” replied Dick. “Isn't there a way of getting down?” “JT believe so. You let the gas out.’? « How ?” asked Messiter. “That is the question. There is, I fancy, a valve in the bottom of the balloon, and if you pull a string, the gas escapes, and you descend. “Pullit then.” “ Where is it?” : ; “T can see a string twined to one of the ropes of th car,” said Messiter. : ia Dick examined it, and thought that this was the right ~ a ¥ “ Wait a bit,” he said, “ we won’t go down just yet >. let’s have our spree out.” “Tm getting frightened.” , “What at?” * i “T don’t know exactly, but it makes one dizzy to look over the side.” * Don’t do it then,” said Dick, who was a philosopher. Messiter turned his attention to the Interior of the car. At his feet there was a locker, which he opened. It contained some cold provisions, a bottle of brandy, and a stone bottle of beer. . 5 “Grub l’ he exclaimed. “ What sort of grub?” asked Dick. 4 “Apie, a chicken, of a tongue, braitly, beer and gin, halt a dozen of cham.” .* That's good,” exclaimed Dick. “ Haul out the cham, we'll have a bottle.” ae quickly opened a bottle and they drank a tumbler apiece. : «“ What a rage the aeronaut will be in; we've run off with his machine, and we’re making free with his - grub,” said Dick. is ay ““T wish we had not done it,”’ groaned Messiter. “It's better than being taken back by Snarley; we're safe enough. It’s only the novelty of the thing that makes you afraid. Some day we shall have steam balloons, and it will be as natural for a man to go to business in his balloon as it is to go in his "bus.’* “You'll go down before dark.” “( Certainly.” ~ “ Where are we now, do you think ?” asked Messiter, “This is the Thames underneath us; how quickly we must have gone. It must be the Thames, as it is. the only big river we've got; and look at the ships !’”_ They went on and sailed over part of Essex, which — they recognized by its flat, marshy aspect. ““Supposewwe try to land here?” said Dick, , “T shall be so glad. Oh, do try,” answered Messiter. Dick took hold of the string, and instead of pulling it gently, gave it a jerk. ; Pesach ~ The string snapped close up to the valve. He stood with the broken piece in his hand and looked blankly at his companion. — ee petd 2 “The beastly thing's broken !’’he exclaimed, tone of disgust. BS I oe eT «Oh, don’t say that!” exclaimed Messiter. “ Here’s ago; we're stumped.” 2 going to end?” exclaimed Messiter,
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— j ’ DICK LIGHTHEART'S TRIALS “Can't you reach the end ?” » _ * Lcould if I were able to. fly; that’s the only wey Look what a height it is off. Messiter began to cry. The balloon now got into a different current of air. It left Buglish soil, and the boys could see the blue rolling waves of the sea beneath them. We're over the, sea, I wonder what sea it is ?’’ re- marked Dick. “Tt must be the German Ocean,” between his sobs. “We couldn’t land now if we wanted to. Open an- other bottle of fiz, Harry; it’s getting cold,’ said Dick. With trembii hands Messiter obeyed, and they drank the sparkling wine in silence, The shades of night began to fall. All was dark, dismal and cheerless. The breaking of the valye-string was a yeritable mis- fortune to them, They had delayed the descent too long; nowit was impossible. Even if they had. been able to,reach the valye and Jet the gas out, they could not have descended on the ‘Waves. That would have been to court certain death by drowning. “Now, Harry,’’ said Dick, “you must show yourself an intrepid yoyager, no humbug; erying won’t do any ‘ood,’ “T can’t help it; you do such, funny things,’’ an- swered Messiter. “Who but you would haye thought of cutting the ropes, and going off in # balloon ?”’ : . “It’s one of the penalties you have to pay tor keep- ing m ee eran wis said Dick, coolly. aE 7 eee began Messiter, who stop ed short. “Go on, Harry,”’ exclaimed Dick. mean. You'll cut me when we get safe home. that it?” “Tf ever we do.”? “Say your prayers, like a good boy, and go to sleep,” ‘Dick continued, wrapping his ,jacket more tightly around his breast and neck, paonon hay exhausted, Messiter Sank down on the bottom of-the car and tried to go to sleep, which he succeeded in doing. Dick sat with his arms folded in thought. The sea was beneath him. Aboye was the firmament, studded with innumerable ‘stars. Occasionally he could see the headlight of some ship ploughing her way to distant lands. Toward morning acold rain fell, which wet him to the skin and chilled him to the bone. , He was obliged to drink some of the brandy in the ‘Locker to support hiniself. ‘When the rain was over, day broke, and the sun rose resplendent in the heavens. Its warm rays served to dryjthe boys, eo their spirits rose again as they made a good br They were still oyer the sea, and rh ‘the wind was fresh, appeared to be traveling at a rapid pace, “Dick, ”* said Messiter. htheart was dozing in a. corner. ea 2?” he replied. «‘Would the balloon go on forever like this, cutting through the air?” “No. It would get rotten and Gacaae up, or a storm might destroy it.” “Where are we “ As far as I can ‘plied Dick. "How horrible !”” «*We shall be picked up some day by some Arctic travelers, in the form of frozen boys, and be talked of as great curiosities.” “Oh, why did you do it?” “Do ‘what 2” “Start.on this mad voyage,” said Messiter. “Tdon’t know; it wasan impulse. Frankly though,’ >t ra Dick, growling, “I wish I hadn’t done it, and that’s fla iiss tg ce ‘anything to be at Simcox & Markwell’s, if it was on) ly in the black hole, It’s dreadful to die so young.” Ae oe Lae not dead yet, “Harry,” said Dick, in a cheerful answered Messiter, know what ror Isn't gos ?' continued Messiter, udge, direct to the North Pole,” re- x was far from feeling merry, but he wanted to cheer his companion. _ “No; but we soon shall be,’’ groaned Messiter. “Perhaps not,” said Dick ; “it all depends upon the wind. Waita bit.’ ces sighed deeply, and Reemed to resign himself to his fate. Dick, however, took up a telescopé he found in the - focker, and began to scrutinize the Sa minutely. CHAP TE R IX, ARMOND’S DIARY. eed news of Lightheart and Messiter’s disap- earance in a balloon flew through the phicok ke wild fire. _ _ It caused the utmost excitement among the boys. Dick was a general favorite, and it was hoped that before long he would return. _ The croakers, and they were not few in number, shook their heads and declared that oa the school had seen the last of the n. telegraphed for the Rey. Mr. came over to daa and | = met the proprietor of the balloon at Harrow House. He was a, man of the name of Turner. Mr. Lightheart was much concerned about his son's safety. “What do you think will be the result ?” he said to Turner. ‘<Tt’s impossible to tell, sir,” said the man; “if the boys understand the valye, they can let out the gas and descend rapidly.” ‘“ Would they not have done so before now if they had this knowledge ?” Turner imagined they would. **T fear,” he said, ‘‘that my new and beauti- ful balloon will be lost; but you, sir, area gen- tleman, and will of course compensate me.” “How dare you talk to me of compensation,” cried Mr, Lightheart, indignantly, “when my boy’s life is in danger?” ‘Bu fend “There is no ‘but’ about it; you should have exercised more vigilance, and not allowed the boys to get into your balloon.” ‘When Richard went away in the boat, he telegraphed directly he reached land,” observed Mr. Simcox. “He did; and Ifancy he would have done the same thing had he descended. ‘There ‘are telegraphs everywhere,” said Mr. Lightheart. “Tn what direction would the wind. blow them?” asked Mr. Simeox. ‘*Due north,” answered Turner. “They would be blown over the German Ocean.” ‘« Precisely.” ‘“My poor, rash boy,” said Mr. Lightheart, ‘che may be frozen to death amid the fogs and frosts of the North Pole. li is dreadful to think of.” The conversation continued in a similar solation to the sorrowing parent. ‘You see, sir,” said Mr. Simcox, ‘‘ that Iam not to blame. ‘The boy forged your handwrit- ing, or I should not-havelet.him go out.” “T know it; he is a bad boy.” In the course of the day Messite?’s father ar- rived, and he was équally perplexed and anx- ious. They returned home in the evening, hoping against hope, but when night fell no news had arrived, Armond did not disguise his delight at the disappearance of his enemy. After twelve, the boys were allowed to stroll on the beach. Armond went ent, taking with him his in- separable companion, Smi Smith was his toady, and he confided all his seorets to him, They sat down together on the pebbly: pecs! behind a bathing-machine, which protected them from the wind. “Tm glad,” said: Armond, ‘‘that the beast Lightheart is pone | at last.” “So am I,” replied Smith. “How I do hate him.” ‘*You have.cause to. Is there no chance of his. coming back ?” cE not, Neitherhe nor Messiter know how to manage a balloon, which isa very deli- cate thing to handle.” ‘‘He was very nearly being maimed for life on the trapeze,” remarked Smith. “*T meant him to be,” answered Armond, ineautiously. ‘Then you did cut the rope?” said Smith. “Yes,” replied Armond; ‘you are my friend, and I don’t mind admitting the truth to you, because I know my secret is safe,” ‘Oh, as to that,” answered Smith, ‘‘I like you too well, Armond, to leton. I never blab about you.” “know it, and I. trust you as a brother. We have worked together ever since I have been at this school.” '* You shall have no cause ta owe your}. confidence.” “No fear. You're made out of hie right | stuff. You and I were cut out for chums,” ae ies answered Armond. ‘*T hope so.” “When I ‘thine of the insults 'that fellow Lightheart has heaped upon me, it makes my blood boil.” “He called you the. ‘son of a tripe-dresser, pends bill-discounter, and Cocky, and B. B., and” ‘Don't ‘go through the list; you only make me. mad,” interrupted Armond. “1 could see him dead at my feet with pleasure.” strain, but without bringing one gleam of con- |: ‘He'll never come back, you say, so that is one comfort,” observed Smith, His little, ugly, freckly face gleamed with gratified malignity. Armond took a book from his pocket, which was secured with clasps and a lock, “'Thisis my diary,” he said. Turning to a certain page, he added : ‘Here is my entry about the trapeze affair.” “Read it,” exclaimed Smith, ‘‘if you don’t mind,” ‘““Went down to the gymnasium and cut the ropes of the last trapeze upon which Lightheart was to spring a match with me ‘Was very wes my attempt failed, and Lightheart was too wary, and would not . take the lea He escaped, but the attendant fell. Bad iuck this. Hope for better next time I hate him now more than ever.” ‘‘ Ain’t you afraid of some one seeing it?” asked Smith. “Wo. It has lock and is never out of my ssion. When not in my. pocket it’s in my desk, and I have the key of that,” Armond replied. -He. began to write in it with a pencil. Smith looked over his shoulder. ‘‘Hear that Lightheart has run away ina balloon, and is not likely to be seen any more Hope he won't be +Thisis really good news.” ‘‘Tt is wicked to hate people,” said ‘Smith. “But I think we may be excused for hating Lighthea “‘ Ain’t it different where a fellow brings it on himself ?”’ said Armond. “ee Yes. a? “I would haye let him alone if he had not molested me.” The yoice of Rumeoyey the pieman was heard. “Tarts, cakes or buns this morning, sir?” He addressed a young man who had been lying down on the bench almost under the bathing-machine, and close to the spet where Armond and his precious toady were. “Any tarts, Mr. Jack”—~ The young man put his fingers to his: lips, and saying ‘ hush,” walked es ‘ayray. Rumeoyey looked after him, = “Something up. No business of “mine,” : and approached Armond, erying in his monot- onous voice, ‘Any tarts, cakes, or buns pei day, sir. The learned Armond, sir.” “What ‘do you calt me learned for ” asked Axmond. “You are the lead of Messrs. ‘Simeox & Markwell’s ‘school, sir. Tarts, cakes, or buns to-day, sir?” paid Rumecoyey. reat me,” said Smith; any tin. ” “« Here’s Sixpence ; lay it out to the best a advantage,” said Armond. Smith made his purchases and paid Bum covey. Meanwhile they: man whom the ; man ‘first wddrenseat ta ed along to the cliff. He was no other than Jackson, the eae et the gymnasium eres Jackson who had been injured hy. falling ‘ from a trapeze, _He had been en: joving : “Chance had enabled him to overhe! yersation between Smith and Armond. ‘This was very important to te a onan Jast he had fount, oe t Ta suspicions on Te COITECty — th "Be had ae ae ‘the con = nai haven't got ss ct a lounge ¢ on the beach. sige
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DICK LIGHTHEARTS TRIALS. * Without losing any time he hastened to Har- row House, and asked to see Mr. Simeox. Mr, Simeox had just been having an interview with Mr. Snarley, who did not get up early. It was a satisfactory one. Snarley explained how he had been. treated, and Mr. Simcox generously forgave him, and xeinstated him in his good opinion ones more. ‘Well, young mau, what can Ido for you?” exclaimed Mr. Simcox, as his visitor was ush- ered in. * My name is Jackson, sir; attendant at the gymnasium,” was the reply, “Oh, ah, yes. of remember. You were hurt there by some aceident, Sad thing. Bet- ter now, I hope.” f$ Yer, thank you, sir. A little stiffness in the ‘eft knee, that is all.” “Well, we did all we could for you. “to: a ything more,’ ou can do justice, soa ’ xeplied Jackson. **'To whom ?’ “A young gentleman named Lightheart was saccused of being the cause of my acciden.”’ ‘«By whom ?’’ asked Mr. Simcox. “Some of his companions, of whom Mr. Armond was the leader,”” “Well ? “He didn’t do it,” said Jackson. ‘*How do you know that?” It may be that 4if we establish Lightheart’s innocence—and mind you, I neyer accused him, or took up the matter at all—the .exculpation will not be of much use to him.” ‘How is that, sir?” ‘‘He is missing; but go on with your story,” returned Mr. Simcox, curtly. Jackson then related the conversation he ‘had heard between Armond and Smith on the ‘beach. “ Very improbable,” replied Mr. Simcox, -who for reasons of his own wished to stand -well with Armond and his father. “Ask for his diary. If you see the confes- ‘sion in black and white, you'll believe it then, won't you, sir,” said Ji ackson. “Yes! very true, that will be evidence ; we must get that diary. I willsee into it. Thank “you for ‘your information; putin future don’t you it would be more creditable to you, Mr. Ji ree: not to lie under bathing-machines listening to people's conversation ?” Jackson flushed angrily. “Tt was accidental,” he ejaculated. © ‘‘T didn’t mean to; nor should I have continued to, listen, unless 1 had’ been interested in the reve- dation; and I think I was perfectly justified in doing 80.” z Ah, that’s a matter of opinion,” Mr. Sim- Ox said, stroking his whiskers. “F ean see how it is,” Jackson exeléimed, indignantly. ‘‘ You like this Armond, and you ~want. to make Lightheart the peapegdat: ii “My good young man?—— ; : “Don’t ‘good young man’ me!” interrupted Jackson, who was insensible to ‘Mr, Simcox’s persuasive tones, “ Bat listen "—— 2 OT will not, sir, until you have weaia what ‘T have to say. h “What is that ?”: : “T now know who is the cause of my injury, and if yoit do not take means to bring the of- fender to justice, T will.” Jackson spoke with determination, and Mr, Simcox lowered his tone. “Very good,” he replied. ‘I haveno fault to find” with ‘the purport of your remarks, thou; you are a little violent. Call upon me this ‘day woek, and I will see what can be done in the fatacimn Wig aches Wi you, sir. ent rromise.? the bell. Jackson did ‘not wait for the attendant to. ww him out, but opened the door himself. | __ When he was gone, Mr. Simeox sent for Mr, som Can’t I will be satisfied with) “ course to ‘be cee ‘Messiter ; ood-morning,” said Mr. Simcox, ringing)|, 7 Fig waticd to consult bim as to’ ‘the best | CHAPTER X. DIOK’S DESPERATE ATTEMPT. It was bitterly cold up in the air. The balloon seemed to be traveraing the icy regions of the north, Dick’s hand trembled as he seeepe the glass, and he could scarcely hold it. But by means of a telescope he was enabled to see that which made his heart thump in his breast. He saw land ! The balloon wasdrifting right oyer against it. ‘t Now, Harry,” he exclaimed, ‘what's your lotion ?—-put a name to it.” “Oh, no, thank you. I don’t want to drink anything. My head aches already,” replied Messiter. “Then I must. I want a reviver.” “ What for?” ‘‘T’ve got workin hand,” replied Dick. “What sort of work ?” “ Aerial navigation, my boy. ‘There is land ahead, and it won't do for us to travel any further. < ‘Do you think you will be able to manage a descent !” asked Messiter. “T mean to try.” “« How ?” “You see that little bit of string flapping up against the valye?” replied Dick. “ee Yes. ” “*T intend to climb up the ropes which bind the car to the machine, and lay hold of that with my teeth,” “Tf you slip ?” ‘Tt is all over with me—that’s’soon settled,” answered Dick. He drank a little brandy, and the boys anxiously watched the course of the balloon. The-land appeared at first. a mere speck; it gradually grew larger, and at length they could see they were traversing the region of a huge pine forest. ‘This must be Norway,” exclaimed Dick. “Oh! what a way we have come. How shall we ever get back again ?’’ said Messiter. ‘‘That don’t worry me the least: little bit. Let us only by God’s mercy put our foot on land, and we'll get back again somehow. Never fear.” ‘Will the trees hurt the balloon?” “Don't for goodness sake worry me with your childish questions, ” replied Dick im- patiently. ‘‘ You're worse than a baby. Of course they ‘will} the trees will smash it up, but what do we care for a bit of varnished silk, It’s our lives I’m thinking of just now,’ “You must bear with me, Dick,” said ‘I know I’m foolish sometimes.” “Dick took his jacket and boots off, cold as it was, 80 as'to be able to, climb with more freedom.” “Tf I slip, Harry,” he said, ‘J ‘shall be dashed to; pieces, but I’ i do my best for your sake as well as my own.” “N ever mind me,” said Messiter, sobbing a ea Bak do and must, I was I who got you into this ‘scrape. Shake hands and say. you forgive me.’ “ Willingly.” The two boys shook hands. “Tf anything should happen, and if you should fluke out of it after all, say I died in trying to do my duty,’’ said Dick. Messiter only answered with sobs. ; “Give my last love to Henrietta, and my duty and affection to my parents and the rest of the people at home.” Messiter nodded his head. on : His little heart, was too full for words, Dick began the ascent. -In that hour of peril: he showed all the qual- ities that go to e a hero. Tt was with the utmost difficulty that he | contrived to haul himself up the slender cords which bound the cartothe balloon, ee seemed scarcely able to maintain his *epeiy but. surely he got higher and. higher. ¥ At last his head touched the top-ef the valve. He was hanging on to one cord news - Moving his head on one side he tele the string with his teeth. Instantly a rush of gas took pice hich nearly suffocated him. He was obliged to let go. = Hand-under-hand he descended. the“ PIPE and stood in the car onee more, ie ‘‘That won't do,” he said, “faintly, *Gan’t you manage it?” asked Mest, trembling, ““T can do it, but not that way. Find a~ Fait of string, Harry,” said Dick. Messiter gaye him. some which was in the locker, and armed with this, Dick ascended again, He exercised the same tapioiteane caution, and was rewarded by once more reaching the valve. ‘Tying a loop in the broken bit of string, he fastened to it that which he had brought up with him. Then he slid down, holding the string in his mouth, Pulling it gently, the valye opened, and but rushed. the gas, Tn less than a minute the balléon began to fall with rapidity. ‘Gently, gently,” muttered Dick, not pull- ing so hard on the string. . The gas escaped more slowly, Therefore, the fall of the balloon was not 50 rapid or dangerous. ‘* Get ready the grappling-irons,” cried Dick. This was a sort of anchor made fast to the evar by a strong cable. Its use was to enable the travelers to aig it outand check their progress, as it fap in the branches of a tree. “ Stand by,” continued Dick, ‘and cast when I give you the word.” ‘ All right,” replied Messiter. Be stood, grapnel in hand, waiting for the sign: Gradually, very gradually, the huge. machine neared the black funereal pine forest. - No sun was to be seen. The sky was dull and leaden, aa there appeared to have been a recent fall of snow, as the topmost branches of the a were white. ‘“‘T shall cut the car loose,” said Dick. “Do what?” asked Messiter. ‘Gut the ropes of the car when we strike, Itcontains food and things that will be of ‘use to us.’ Presently they were skimming over the tops of the pine trees. ‘“ Cast!” exclaimed Diek. Messiter did so. © The grapnel caught in a bough and hela fast, while the car sottled between two pranc hes. The balloon, however, tore and rolled in’ B frantic manner. Hastily Dick slashed away at the many ropes which bound the machine and the car to- gether, After a time he out the last strand, and the huge balloon, like a thing i in pain, swayed ARTS into the heavens. ~ ‘“There it, goes,” exclaimed Messiter, . “The car gave a lurch, “ap fs as “ And there yeu'll govit you Hane watch it” x replied Dick.. The boys grasped the- “bran ohey of the pine, | to steady the car, which-had settled in a fork. “Thank God, we are safe,” exclaimed Mes- _ siter, clasping his hands’ ‘together i in gratitude ; to Providence. fe Dick said nothing, but ‘his lips moved and — the tears came into his bee) srails his limbs shook convulsively.: ; Ge The danger was over now, and the reaction had set in. His nervous system had been severely The trembling did not last long ; Hens ssion wi ote aff himself again, and as the’ re i aS and @ sense of gafety and | Heb case dated : upon his mind, igh glee. hs ) gave wa e We’ re all right now, : % fs ie
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DICE LIGHTHEART'S -7RIALS, “T don’t see it,” replied Meniicn “We're | _ Up a tree, and how to get down I don’t know, gud where we are when we doget down I can't tell, and how to get home again is more”—— ‘Shut up,” cried Dick; ‘‘you’re like a dog ata fair, no sooner out of one trouble than you're into another.” ** Well, arn’t we “‘Never mind, we’ "il get down. Go first.” “No, thank you,” replied Messiter. ‘‘I’m not going to be eaten by bears or torn to pieces by wolves in a strange country.” ** Bosh !” “Tt isn’t bosh. I'd rather stay here. very comfortable where I am.” Oh! all right,” replied Dick, carelessly. “You've been flying through the air so long that, perhaps, you fancy you're a bird, and nave got a nest in a tree. Hadn't you better 0 to roost ?” : ** Don’t chaff, Dick.” “Tm not afraid of anything living, now ’m _out of that blessed. bah-loon,” exclaimed Dick, “and I’m going down.” «Dropping from branch to branch, he soon found himself on the ground. The trees were thickly planted together, and they were evidently in the midst of an im- penetrable forest. On the ground between the trees was snow of a considerable depth. The cold was intense, and the prospect any- thing but cheering. “*T don’t. know that Harry hasn’t got the best of it up there, after all,” he muttered. “How are you down there?” said Messiter from above. “Qovely,” replied Dick. ‘‘There’s a turkey carpet, and table and chairs, and quite a cozy litéle cottage.” ** Tt there, really ?” asked Messiter, simply. ‘Yes. Woodcutters and all the rest of it, I’m quite one of the family already. They’re lighting the fire and getting the dinner ready. Come down.” - Inashort time the crackling branches showed that Messiter was descending. Imagine his disgust when he found Dick shivering up to his shins in snow. **Oh, what a story!” he exclaimed; ‘‘ you said there were woodcutters and a cottage, and ~ how could.you sell me like that ?” ‘Because I want you down here, Harry. It isn’t time for thinking. We must put our shoulders to the wheel, unless we want to be frozen to death, and leave our bones to whiten in this forest.” . : “Tl work, Dick, if you'll only tell me what ~ todo,” replied Messiter. , ‘“‘That’s all I want. First of all, we must _ make a house.” Out of what? We've got no tools.” We don’t want any,” replied Dick ; house will be one of snow.’ Won't it melt?” said Messiter. “Nota bit of it- I shall leave a hole in the - roof, to let the hot air escape, and you ‘ll be sur- a tree?” I’m *¢ our prised how warm you'll find it. The Esquimaux | a always live in igloos or snow huts. Fire away. Here is a place between four trees. Let that be the model. Mold the snow hard, and make your walls thick,” . -~ “All right,” said Messiter, who be; to re- _ cover his’ Spirits 5 ‘Pll take tliis side. You take that.” a Very. well,” replied Dick, ‘‘ and we'll see _ ‘who is the ‘pest mason.’ Cag they began with a will - make a snow ee CHAPTER XL ARMOND’S HSCAPE, ‘Wax Mr. Snarley sought the presence of the u 1 master, his face wore a subdued, and even ve air. We had a very bad headache, he was todteaed fierce e thirst, and } he suffered all the evils posiponn, § in hee “worst | di He was ashamed of himself. Once he had been betrayed into intoxication, and he came home dressed as a. clown. Again he had been tempted, and fell; the consequence being that he appeared before Mr. Simcox’s astonished eye arrayed asa pantaloon. He wondered what he would come home like if he did it a third time. “You sent for me, sir,’”’ he exclaimed, as he entered the study. Mr. Simcox motioned him to a seat. ‘‘T have had a tronblesome visitor,” he said. ‘*May I ask his name ?” **You may. It is Jackson.” ‘*T only know one of that name, and he is an attendant at the gymnasium,’ ’ said Mr. Snarley. ‘That is the man.” ** Does he want more money ?” ‘*No; he asks for justice,” said Mr. Simcox. cs Upon whom ?” “He alleges that he overheard a conversa- tion this morning on the beach between Ar- mond and Smith, in the: course of which Ar- mond admitted to Smith that he cut the ropes.” ‘«Indeed! I always considered Lightheart the culprit,” said Snarley. ‘* My suspicions also. pointed in that direc- tion, but Jackson declares that Armond read an extract from a diary he keeps, which fully de- tailed the crime.” . “This is grave.” ‘¢Very,” replied Mr. Simeox. _ “‘ Jackson de- mands that I Enall obtain the diary and disgrace Armond, while doing justice to Lightheart.” “Tt seems a proper request.” “No doubt, and our duty is clear,” Mr Sim- cox rejoined. ‘‘But it is no secret to you, Snarley, that Iam under considerable obligation to Armond’s father.” . You have hinted as much, sir.” ““Lowe him money. If he were to withdraw his son, I could no longer work out the sum. 1 should have to pay, and Lam notin a position to do:so.” ‘*Precisely,” said Snarley, ‘‘I see where the shoe pinches.” “Perhaps Lightheart may never return. He has not been openly accused of, or punished for cutting the ropes of the trapeze.” “ No. ” “Therefore he has not much cause for griev- ance,” pursued Mr. Simcox. “Certainly not,” Snarley answered. ‘“Then again, we have Armond the head of the school.” ‘*We have.” ‘“‘He supplies us with valuable information which enables us to know what is going on among the boys.” **He-is our spy, in fact.” ‘*T do not like the word spy. _ It is harsh,” said Mr. Simeox. assists us in performing duties that are arduous.” “Quite so: I stand corrected, sir.” “Now, haying made Armond what he is, it would seriously embarrass us to disgrace and humiliate him in the eyes of the school.” ‘So it would. Let us take no notice of the attendant’s communication,” Snarley rejoined. ‘““That course does not recommend itself to me; it sayors too much of favoritism. I must see Armond and speak to him, but I think it would be as well if you" were to see him first.” ‘‘ With pleasure, sir.” “Tf that diary did not exist, there would be no proof against him,” Mr. Simeox went on, “For my part, sir, I don’ t believe there is such a thing. It is a malicious invention on the part of Jackson.” ‘Very likely. Go and make your investiga- tions, Mr. Snarley.” The usher departed to do so and found] Armond on the beach. ‘Morning, sir,” said Armond. ‘ Did yeu enjoy yourself at the Swiss Gardens ?” “Not much. ‘There were causes that— ahem !—interfered with m: pleasure. By the pt Armond, it is a bad p’ Hee keep a diary ;- n’t tell me you keep a diate cas ore bod asked. eg nie Z . * Buti we will say that he| cae xekuacar smile, — *“Mr. Simcox has been tcld that you have written incautious admissions in a book.” ** As te what ?” BE That unfortunate affair of the trapeze : ropes.” - Armond turned deadly pale: ‘¢ Whois his informant ?” he asked. ‘‘Jackson, the attendant at the gymnasiunr- The fellow says he was lying on the beach this morning, and he heard you reading # con-. fession to Smith. It is an absurd story, is it not?” “* Ridiculous,” whit»r stil], ‘Mr. Simcox is determined to sift the mat- ter, and compel the production of the diary 5; but if you hayen’t got one and it can’t. be: found, the matter falls. to the ground, and there: is an end of it. Now, the question is, do Fas or do you not keep a diary ge ‘*T will gladly give you the keys of my box, my desk, and my locker, sir, and if you: can find one, you are welcome.” He handed Mr. Snarley'a bunch of keys ane he spoke. ‘‘Ah! that is fair and straightforward,” said the usher. ‘‘I am glad you have met me in: this spirit. I will go at once to Mr. Simcox,’”” replied the usher. “Thank-you, sir,” replied Armond. He breathed « sigh of relief. ‘* Excuse me for troubling you, Armond, but: this Jackson is a vindictive, troublesome fellow.” ‘Let me see himif he comes again troub-. ling Mr. Simcox.” ‘Your request is a very proper one, and shall be preferred in the right quarter,” Snarley” replied, shaking his hand. When he was gone, Armond turned to Smith. and said : : ‘* A narrow shave that.” “ Very,” replied Smith. ‘“‘Fancy the sneaking beggar being behind the: bathing-machine and listening to what we said.” ‘* Fancy,” repeated Smith. “*Simcox doesn’t want to have a row with me because of his transactions with. my father, * and he sent Snarley to talk tome. IE can: see: replied Armond, growing that.. Cleverly done, wasn’t it?” ‘*By Snarley, you mean—to Pat you on: your guard? ” # “You.” “You'll get out of it all right, now;, but what: shall you do with the diary,” said Smith. ‘*T don’t know.” ‘“Throw it in the sea, or destroy it.” “No,” replied Armond, ‘‘I don’t want to do: that; there are lots of things in it I want tore— member and look at. I shall hide it. 2 “* Where ?” said Smith. “That's the question; tell me a good place,” ‘You know the old sprporeere tree in the: playground ?” “ce Yes. ” ‘ There is a sparrow’s nest high up in the branches; we might put it there for the pres-. him | ent,” said Smith. “4 brilliant idea. The leaves will hide it.” **So will the stuff the nest is made of,” an-- swered Smith. — “Let's go at once and do it. up the tree,” said Armond. The boys rose and went home. There were only a few boys in the plég= ground, playing at marbles and leap frog ; ; andi they did not see anything extraordinary im Armond’s climbing up the tree. He soon reached the old sparrow’s nest, and’ safely, deposited the diary on the hay of which it was made. Then he descended, feeling that he had baf. fled his enemies for the present. ‘“That’s a weight off one’s mind,” he muttered. a) Before dinner Mr. Snarley sought him again. 3 “Well, sir, are you satisfied 2?” ask pee mond. ~ “Perfectly, my dear boy. Mr. Sim I acquit you of the base charg: brought a; you by Jackson,” | said Snarley “Thank you, = I can climb:
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DICK LIGHTHEART'S TRIALS. rs OOO O0O0O0O0O0OO0O$8O*"OO ee eee ‘tHe is a malicious scoundrel.” ** Kick him out, sir, if he comes here again telling lies.” ; “Depend upon it, he will go out quicker than he came in. I congratulate you upon coming so well through the ordeal.” Armond again thanked the usher, and his face was radiant with smiles. Calling to Smith, he said: ‘Make us a back. I feel so jolly that I want to do something.” Smith bent down, and he leaped over him with agility; then he went down, and Smith cleared him, crying, ‘‘ tuck in yourtwo-penny,” and so they amused themselves till dinner-time. 3 The day passed, and no news came of Light- eart. All the boys talked about him and Messiter. Some made bets. The betting showed that the school did not think much of his chance of getting back again, : The betting was six to four against his re- urn.» CHAPTER XI. FRIENDS IN. NEED; WaeEn the snow-house was finished, a hole was left for the boys to crawl in at. Dick climbed up the pine tree and brought down the stores from the car. The provisions were not sufficient to last long, and they ate sparingly. Both the boys were so fatigued that all they wanted was to go to sleep. Lying close to one another for warmth they s00n fell asleep. The day and night had passed when Dick awoke, fancying he heard voices. “Did you speak, Harry ?” he said. ‘*No,” replied Messiter, waking up and rub- bing his eyes. ‘I'd have sworn I heard a voice, and an Eng- lish voice too, Hark!” They listened. “Down, Nero! Down, lad, down!” said someone, ‘There |” cried Dick, ‘‘ didn’t I tell you so?” Tn an instant he was out of the snow-cave, followed by Messiter. _ Through the trees Dick beheld @ thick smoke curling upward. Going toward it he came upon an open glade in the forest. » Here were two men. Their guns were lying on the ground, and near them was a fine deer, quite dead; by which a handsome hound sat on his haunches. One man was attending to the fire, which be- gan to blaze up. The other had just lighted a pipe, and sitting : Me the trunk of a fallen tree, was smoking plac- 'Y- * ‘They had the unmistakable appearance of gentlemen, and English gentlemen too. Dick could hardly believe the evidence of his ‘wenses, ~ ‘Who are they ?” whispered Messiter. “T don’t know ; let's give them a cheer.” “ All right, lead off.” ‘Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!’ cried Dick; at the _ top of his voice, _Messiter joined’in with the shout in a manner that did credit to his lungs. The strangers started up and looked around em wonderingly. ‘With a laugh, Dick advanced. ee at him as if they had seen a Eapinn pat “Hullo, my lad,” said one, ‘‘ where did you _ spring from? I needn’t ask your nationality, _ for only an English boy could give a hearty urrah like that.” = oa) , sportsmen; and have come over to “What are you doing here?” cried Dick, | fish and shoot. Iam Captain Sanderson, and my friend there, who is.trying his hand at fire making, is Major Wilcox.” ‘Proud to make your acquaintance,” said Dick, cool as ever. ‘But now, my lad, what brought yowhere?” said Captain Sanderson. ~ “Not inclination, I can tell’ you:” ‘* How long have you been here ?” ‘* About eighteen hours.” ‘* What-are you doing in this forest?” “Nothing.” ‘*You’re a very funny boy,” said: Captain Sanderson, puzzled. ‘‘ How did you get there?” ‘Tn a balloon,” replied Dick, ‘Look here, my lad,” said the captain; ‘‘if we are to be friends, you mustn’t chaff me.” “Tm not chaffing, and I feel perfectly inde- pendent. I’m a householder, and: if you like to come and have a bottle of champagne ora glass of brandy, you’re welcome.” ‘* A what are you?” “A householder, and I neither pay rent nor taxes.” “Really,” said Major Wilcox, ‘‘ this is a most extraordinary boy, and, by Jove, there is another of them!” It was Messiter he saw. “Oh!” said Captain Sanderson, ‘‘you have a companion.” “Tn misfortune,” replied Dick. ‘* Well,” said the captain, with a good-natured smile, ‘let's go to your house and have this bottle of champagne. I hope it’s good.” ‘* First-rate. It’s Clicquot,” answered Dick. ‘© Will you come, major?” asked the captain, ‘Oh! yes, with pleasure.” The sportsmen rose and followed Dick a few yards, when they saw the snow-house. ‘You can go inside if you like, but I shouldn’t advise you to. It’s damp, and not too big,” said Dick. ** As you please.” ‘Harry, bring out the chammy and some glasses,” continued Dick. Messiter did so, and Dick poured out the wine, which the travelers drank with a relish. ‘Now, come,” said Major Wilcox; ‘‘tell us all about yourselves.” ‘* First of all, tell me where I am,” replied Dick. ; ‘Don’t you know where you are?” “No more than Adam.” “ Really 5 ed “Really,” said Dick. ‘‘If you were to tell me this was the moon, and you was the man in it, I shouldn’t like to disbelieve you.” “It’s Norway, and this is a forest near Hels- ingfors,” replied Captain Sanderson, “‘We must have come a precious long way in a short time.” “Tf you would only condescend to be a littlé more communicative, we chould get on better.” “All right. You shall hear our pitiful story,” answered Dick. : He accordingly told them their names, what school they were at, how they contrived to get a day’s holiday, and how, after playing tricks upon the usher, they started on their wild career in a. balloon. er ‘‘Upon my word, Master Lighthéart,” ex- claimed Captain Sanderson, ‘‘ you are a very promising youth,” ; : “¢ Always so considered,” replied Dick. “You'll make a noise in the world.” ‘*Such has been my pious intention, cap- tain.” “TN tell you what,” said Major Wilcox, “that opening the valve was avery pluck thing, You may think yourself lucky that you got down,” **So I do, major,” said Dick; ‘‘and I hold myself still more fortunate in meeting you.” “IT don’t know how you would have found your way out of the forest if you had not. We return to England in a day or two in my yacht, our shooting tour being over.” “T suppose you won't object to passage. We can make ourselves useful as cabin boys or something,” Dick remarked. give us a Tee +24 ine must do our best for you, eh, Sander. ~ son 72 “Certainly, but they must promise not ita run away with the yacht,” replied the captain, laughing. ‘*T hope,” said Dick, ‘‘thatmy character will absolve me from any such base suspicions. By the way, had you good sport?” ‘*Tolerably.” ; **Qnly tol lel; sorry for that. Pity we didn’t meet you sooner,” said Dick, with his usual im- pudence. ‘‘Howeyer, I see you've killed a -deer; and the presumption is: you’re going to cook it.” Yes.” : ‘* Well put on some extra steaks for Messiter and me, and when it’s ready, give usa hail, I must go into the house and see to my domestic arrangements. ‘Ta-ta! see you again at dinner- time.” The sportsmen laughed. immoderately, and? Dick crawled into the house, followed by Mes- siter, “Oh! Dick,” said Messiter, when they were alone, ‘‘ won’t you offend them ?” ‘Not a bit of it. It doesn’t do to be too civil to people,” replied Dick. * Doesn't it?” ‘* Not a bit of it. They'll like us all-the bet- ter.” Messiter was silent, **T’m a lucky beggar,” continued Dick, glee- fully. ‘‘I always fall on my legs.” “It’s very fortunate we met those two gen- tlemen who happened to be shooting in these forests.” . ‘““We may look forward to a spree now,” Dick continued, ‘‘ They’re swells, and they’re sure to have a nice yacht. Won’vit be jolly.” ‘‘Rather; I’m not sorry we ran away in the balloon, now.” ‘“We,” repeated Dick, scornfully, “‘ you had - nothing to do with it. I believe when you grow up to be a man, you'll tell the story and say you . did it all.” . ‘*No, I shan’t,” replied Messiter, sulkily. ‘Don’t cutup rough, Harry ; you may if you like,” said Dick. ‘‘ But Tl tell you why f crept in here. I felt so awfully pleased at meeting » those fellows and seeing a way out of our scrape that I wanted to be alone.” ‘Will it take us: long to get home?” asked Messiter, quickly recovering his good humor: - ‘“Ten days or a fortnight, I expect.” The boys had not been long together in their snow-house before they heard the captain’s= stentorian voice exclaim: ‘* Dinner is ready, young gentlemen.” Dick took the last two bottles of wine, one in each hand, and went outside. Messiter carried some knives and forks and plates, which had formed part of the private | stock of the balloon proprietor. 4 Though not handsome, they were useful: The venison steaks were done to a turn. In a very short time, the boys and the gentlemen became the best of friends, “For the last two seasons,” exclaimed Cap- tain Sanderson, ‘‘my friend and I have made it our custom to come here for the season, and though we have to rough it, we like it.” ‘* Where do you live ?—if it’s not an imperti- nent question,” asked:Dick. ‘‘You’re improving, my young friend,” said: the major. oe or : ‘“Why ?” replied Dick. ‘* Because of the last part of your sentence. ~ I shouldn’t think it mattered to you whether very tender and Y | your questions were impertinent or not.” “ Tm Dick. much.” Bere : ‘We live atthe forester’s cottage, about six _ mile’s distant,” replied the captain, ‘‘andifyou | will come with us, we will see whatwe can de in the way of rugs and blankets. To put you — up beds is out of the question.” Regs “Dont mention it,” replied Dick, waving hi hand grandly; ‘‘when we're camping out, we — rise superior to beds” particular with gentlemen,” answered **Cads, I must confess, I don’t study wg = 2 = nag Se
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DICK LIGHTHEARTS TRIALS, > “** Glad to hear it,” replied the major, with a smile. *“Are you ready? Follow us. March,” claimed Captain Sanderson. Dick found the cottage much more comforta- bie than he expected, and good fires kept out fhe cold. The days passed quickly, and at last he and Messiter went down to the coast with their * kind friends, and got on board the See which was to take them to England. Captain Sanderson very kindly telegraphed : fo Messrs. Simcox & Markwell, and to the Rey. Mr. Lighteheart, informing them of the escape of the boys, as well as to Messiter’s father. The voyage was pleasant, though a little rough. The gentlemen were going to the Islo of Wight, and they promised to land the boy= as they passed Brighton. “We draw such a light draught of water,” said Captain Sanderson, ‘ that ve can put you Off at the Chain Pier. 2? “Thank you,” said Dick. He got Messiter alone, and he remarked to him—‘ We shall pass Kemp Town.” ** What of that? asked Messiter.” “Consequently we shall go by Harrow House.” “cc W ell 7 *Tsn’t this cannon a litttle beauty ?” was Dick's only reply. He touched the smooth polished barrel of a cannon which stood on the stern part of the ~wessel. *<T mean to load this,Harry,” he continued. ee “« What with?” ; dy What with? Why powder ‘and ball, you donkey. oa Cnr ptain Sanderson won't let you fire it.” of Yeu, he will. Tl tell him I want to salute old Simeox, and he won’t know I’ve slippeda ball in,” replied Dick. “But if you fire at the house you may ’ kill somebody,” said Messiter, doubtfully. «‘ No, Ishall fire, as the sailors say, ‘ between _ svind and water,’ that is, above their heads, just to make the furniture rattle and alarm them a bit,” said Dick. 3 4Don’t do it, Dick; there is a good aetOw 5 ; you might kill somebody. Ms 2 “Think so?” “‘T do indeed, ee promise me that you won't,” pleaded Messiter. «‘ Well, then, there will be no harm in ing off the stack of chimneys, will there?’ Dick. He thought he had arrived at solution of the difficulty. Having got the idea into his head, he must fire at something. — Yes,” he ad ed. ‘Dll have old Fireworks’ chimneys. Won't he jump? He will think the sweeps have made a mistake and come to the wrong house.” -- He laughed immoderately at the idea, and : Messiter joined in his merriment, picks OHAPTER XTIT. FIRING A SALUTE, ‘Mx. Sntcox, his wife, and Mr. Markwell were at breakfast, Mr. Snarley had come in to make areport about some series breach Go dis- <Gpline, ihe windows were open, and Mr. Bandieg _ tooking out on the sea remarked that there was _ avery fine yacht in the offing. ~ He had not very clearly defined ideas as to what he meant by the “offing.” Plies a nautical term, and as every one else rent as himself as to his meaning, it passed off very well. Yes,” said yack a ining to havea eee of one’s r. Simcox, ‘a remarkably fine some days since we received their telegram an- PD eet their descent in Norway.” id Hawful thing to be run away with ina bal- loon,” said Mrs. Simcox. fr Very much so, madam,” replied Mr. Mark- we ‘* T don’t think they were so much to blame, hafter hall,” continued Mrs. Simcox. “Why not, my dear?” said her husband. ‘Hit was Snarley has frightened them.” ‘Excuse me, ma’am,” said Mx. Snarley. ‘‘Lightheart forged his father’s handwriting to begin with. He played me innumerable tricks into the bargain, and he deliberately cut the ropes that bound the balloon to the earth. Not to blame, indeed! I don’t see how a boy could behave worse.” ‘Tam of Snarley’s opinion,” said Mr. Sim- cox. ** And T also,” chimed in Mr. Markwell. ‘‘ What ought we to do with him then? They must be punished, or supposing we let Messiter off, as acting under Lightheart’s orders, what isto be-done to him?” asked Mr. Simcox. “Plog him,” replied Mr. Markwell. ‘J don’t believe he cares for that. He’s as hardened as an habitual criminal, but some- thing must be done with him.” “Discard the cane, and use the birch in the | ¢, presence of the whole school; that will shame him. There will be mental punishment there ; the disgrace will have more effect than the actual pain, which will be great enough,” urged Mr. Markwell. ‘‘Tam not in favor of the use of the birch, because I consider it a degrading punishment,” said Mr. Simcox. “Just the very reason why you should adopt it in this instance.” ‘Perhaps you are right. I will try it. Light- heart shall be birched.” ‘ And Messiter ?” asked Mr. Snarley. ‘‘ We will cane him. ‘There shall be a differ- ence between them. You, Markwell, shall cane Messiter, and I will flog Lightheart.” ‘That will strike terror into their souls,” replied Mr. Snarley, who was delighted at the decision. ‘‘Hit’sa mercy they weren't killed in that balloon,” observed Mrs. Simcox. “It is indeed,” replied her husband. ‘‘T never expected to hear of them again.” ** Perhaps that yacht out there, in what Mr. Snarley so properly calls the offing, is the very one in which they are returning,” said Mr. Markwell. ‘‘Shouldn’t wonder,” replied Simcox, ‘‘ they said their new friends would bring them home in a ship.” Suddenly there was a loud report; a heavy body seemed to rush into the room just over the heads of those assembled. Acrack was heard, and part of the wall behind Mrs. Simcox fell down. ‘‘ Hoh!” she said. ‘‘ Bless us and save us! What can it be? His it a hearthquake ?” “That was a shot, madam. Itis the Prus- sians,” said Mr. Markwell, trembling violently. Snarley crept under the table, and groaned in anguish of spixit. ‘My opinion is,” said Simcox, “‘that it’s a bombardment. The Americans have sent a privateer, over to exact reparation for the Ala- bama claims.” ‘‘Hi shall faint,” exclaimed Mrs. Simcox. “Hoh, Lor’! to think they should start with our house, Ww when there are so many hothers in the town.” As no other shot followed the first, Mr. Sim. cox rose from his seat, and going to the wall, | ‘examined the damage. A shot had firmly embedded itself in the brickwork, part of which had fallen. as It was not propelled »by a very large” charge hie powder, or it would have done more mis- ef. Fragments of glass lay around in all direc tions. It was a Providential mercy that the ball had not been aimed lower, or it would have taken off the head of Mrs. ’Simeox, who sat directly in the line of fire. The ball had come in through the open win- dow, and Mr. Simcox, after a moment’s reflec- tion, felt. convinced that it was either an acci- dent or a mistake. We were at war with nobody, therefore it could not have been a bombardment. ‘*Don’t be alarmed,” he said, as he held some salts under his wife’s nose; ‘‘we shall | have no more of it.” On hearing these reassuring words, Snarley emerged from his place of concealment. Mrs. Simcox, with a woman’s quickness of perception, exclaimed: ‘* Hit’s that himp ”—— ‘That what, madam?” asked Mr, Markwell, who was very pale. “That Lightheart,” she continued. ‘He must be on board this yacht, and he’s fired a cannon hat hus.” ‘* However that may be,” said her husband, ‘*T shall go at once to the police, or the coast- guard, or somebody, and find out who fired the shot. Itis not only that our lives have been pass in jeopardy; the damage must be paid oH rose, and putting on his,hat, went out to make a complaint at the Town Hall. When he neared the Chain Pier, he was sur- prised to see Captain Sanderson, whom he did not know, walking between two boys whom he did know. These were Lightheart and Messiter. ‘“‘That’s our governor,” whispered Dick. stopping abruptly. ' Mr. Simcox said: : “T see you with two of my pupils, sir, and will venture to address you, though I have not the honor of your personal acquaintance.” ‘“My name is Sanderson,” replied Dick’s friend - ‘Cand I have come to restore the runaways. m “‘So far I am much obliged to you,” contin- ued Mr. Simeox. ‘‘ But Ihave a grave charge to make. What I presume to be your yacht, has fired’ —— “T know what you mean, my good sir,” in--~ terrupted Captain Sanderson, ‘‘and Iam pre- pared to tender youan explanation ; in fact, I was on my way to your house to do so.” “Very good,” said Mr. Simcox, relaxing the muscles of his face. ‘“ We intended to fire a salute, but by a mis- take a ball was put in the gun, and I trust sincerely no one has been injured,” “No one but’”——. ** Allow me. one was hurt, and I am sincerely rejoiced to hear it. Accept my hearty congratulations, and at the same time my apologies, for the: carelessness of my men.’ “Then the yacht belongs to you ?” ee “1t does,” reptied Captain Sanderson. y ‘Consequently you are responsible for the $ damage done to my property.” “Of course. Mention the amount and I will give yon a check on the spot.” Mr. Simcox permitted himself to smile. _ The erash was “occasioned | ‘more by. the | ; ms dhrongh | Extending his hand he exclaimed: ‘My dear sir, my very dear sir, if you wi allow me to call you so, you are a gentleman- I may add, a perfect gentleman.” “Thank you for the compliment,” refi Captain Saxderson, smiling, “and now ma; beg one favor?” “By all, means.” £ “You will not be too hard on my ye friends here for their flight in the balloon.” _ Mr. Simcox looked grave. “They have suffered a good deal from f frig and exposure,” continued - capte _ That doesn’t lessen, the of which they nae Bees i cox.) | ae Sir z * « Possibl: n oe It is, indeed, fortunate that no be a <A
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“tliat Lightheart is a very bad boy, and has, on yarious occasions, given me a great deal of trouble.” **T am sorry to hear that.” ** You cannot be more sorry than I am when T relate the fact, sir,” continued Mr. Simcox. *“Messiter, his conipanion, may have been led away by Lightheart ; I am willing t~ admit that.” “Let them off this time, Mr.——” “Simcox.” “Ah, thank you. I had forgotten your name,” said the captain. _‘‘ Now, to oblige me, Mr. Simcox, you will let them off this once.” ‘No, sir; I will not, and cannot,” answered he head master of Harrow House School. **Lightheart would only laugh at me behind my back. Oh, sir,” said Dick. “Hold your tongue, if you please, Master Lightheart. Iam not addressing my remarks to you,” replied Mr. Simeox, severely. Dick was silent. “Tt have his father’s authority, Captain Sanderson,” the professor went on, ‘to adopt harsh measures with this boy.” “That is a crammer,” said Dick in a low tone to Messiter. Mr. Simcox turned round sharply. “Did you speak?” he asked. ‘No, sir; it was only the wind,” answered Dick. “Well,” said Captain Sanderson, ‘‘I shall stay here a day or two—say at the ‘ Bedford.’ Send me your bill for the damage the accident- al discharge of a loaded gun from my yacht has caused in your house, and I will gladly pay it immediately.” “Thank you. The account shall be sent in afew hours,” said Mr. Simcox. “T take this opportunity of again expressing amy regret at what has occurred.” “Don’t mention it, sir. You have, I repeat, behaved like a gentleman.” «* Will you let Messiter and Lightheart come ‘to breakfast with me before I leave?” asked ‘the captain. ‘Tam sorry to be compelled to refuse you; they will not set foot outside the door of Har- row House School for some time to come.” * Well, you know best; but let them down easy,” said the captain, good-naturedly. “Pardon me,” replied Mr. Simcox, ‘stifly. “‘T really must deprecate any interference be- tween myself and my pupils.” ‘All right. I wish you good-morning,” cried the captain. He shook hands with the boys, and whis- pered to Dick, as he slipped a sovereign into this hand, ‘‘I did my best for you, old fellow.” “Thank you heartily,” said Dick, who was touched by the kindness Captain Sanderson and Major Wilcox had shown him since their first meeting. ‘‘I shall never forget you.” “Tata,” said the captain, who turned round and walked back along the Parade. When the captain was out of sight, Mr. Sim- -cox’s" manner dusiged as if by magic. ‘He became angry and ferocious. Walk in front of me, you boys,” he said, as if he was a policeman talking to a couple of pickpockets. : Dick took Messiter’s arm and walked on "quickly. ‘* We're in for it,” whispered Messiter. ‘*That’s safe. It’s the Bank of England to a China orange,” answered Dick. “JT don’ care. They can’t kill us.” - __ “Tt-will be all the same in a hundred years hence,” said Dick. z : _ __“So it will, but I wish it was over,” replied Messiter, with a sigh. “Sanderson tipped me a sovereign.” “Did he? He's a brick.” _ “J should think he was too. Inever met a better fellow in my life,” answered Dick. ~ __ - In a short time they reached Harrow House, and pushing them in at the door, Mr, Simcox a EF, Go into my study, boys, and wait until I me to you.” Soo Beate DICK LIGHTHEART’S TRIALS. They did as they were told, and Mr. Simcox went to the breakfast-room to announce the ar- rival of the missing ones. | Mrs, Simcox and Mr. Markwell were pleased sound. In addition to this pleasure, they were further | swered, with a bland smile. | this Armond, but I'll find out the truth to hear that the boys had come back safe and | replied Jackson. - s ‘*Then you invented this story to calumniate a very well-behayed young man.” : : ‘“'That’s not true. You are in league with yet,” ““T wish nothing more,” Mr. Simcox -an- “Do 80 as speed~ gratified at Captain Sanderson’s promise to pay | ily as possible, and you shall hayé my hearty for the damage done to the house by the can- non ball. , ‘Mr. Snarley,” said Mr. Simeox, ‘‘ go to the school-room and prepare for the punishment of the delinquents.” ‘Yes, sir,” replied Snarley. ‘«The birch is kept in my desk, you will re- member, and you will find a cane there too, Make a little speech to the boys, and when all is ready, tell me.” : “ As soon as possible,” said Snarley. ‘* An example shall be made this time, which will cause the whole school to quake,” continued Mr. Simcox, ; ** Quake’s the word, sir,” said Mr. Snarley, as he left the room rubbing his hands, and smil- ing. CHAPTER XIV. THE NEW BOY. THE runaways were not kept long in suspense; they were brought into the school-room and passed through a double row of grinning boys. There is little compassion in the schoolboy’s mind. No one seemed to feel any ‘pity for the sufferers. Mr. Simcox made alittle spsech, in which 9 commented upon the bad conduct of Light- eart, Armond and Brabazon were called forward to hold Dick. : Mr. Simeox wielded the birch with an en- ergy which soon produced an effect Dick struggled and roared, but all to no purpose. Foie is enemy, Armond, held him in vise-like grip, delighted at the torments inflicted upon the scapgrace. ; At length, having received five-and-twenty strokes, and the birch being broken into twen- ty little bits, which lay scattered about the oor, the professor threw down the worn-out stump. Dick rose, with a scarcely endurable sensa- tion of tingling and smarting, and walked to his desk with tears in his eyes. It was now Messiter’s turn, The latter was held by the collar of his jack- et by Mr.Snarley, while Mx. Markwell admin- istered a sound caning. . His cries were louder than Dick’s ; and a last, he too took his place, feeling dreadful sore and uncomfortable. “Boys,” said the professor, in his most aw- ful voice, ‘‘let this bea lessonto youall. I trust that Lightheart will for life remember the disgraceful punishment to which he has just been publicly subjected. Mr: Snarley, let the work of theday begin.” % Soon all were engaged in the important busi- ness of lessons. C When twelve o’clock came, the boys went into the playground, and all of Dick's friends crowded around him to hear an account of his travels. But Dick was in pain and sulky; he would not talk to any one. For some days he did not get over the disci-, pline to which he had been subjected. . It gradually faded away from his mind, how- ever, and he became himself again, for his sense told him that Mr. Simcox had treated him only as he richly deserved. pies The attendant at the gymnasium called upon the professor by appointment. wert Mr. Simcox informed him curtly that no dia- ry could be found in Armond’s possession. “ You must have been mistaken in what you thought you heard,” he said, _ et a f No, sir, I was not,” replied Jackson, indig- nantly, Ce Nae thee : he A I | thanks; and now, good-morning.” Thus dismissed, the ‘‘ gym” went away dis- satisfied, but unable to do any more at present. He was not idle, however, for he waited until” an opportunity occurred of seeing Dick. : ‘Tf I tell him about the diary, maybe he'll © find it,” he said to himself, ‘‘and if he does, — and we bring it home to this Armond, I'll make — his father pay for it, and give me a sum of money to start me in life, or I'll ruin his char acter in a police-court, and at the same time clear Mr. Lightheart, who is a gentleman, what- ever they may say about him.” But as Dick was kept a close prisoner with Messiter for a fortnight, and not allowed to go out under any pretense whatever, he did not see him for some time, though he hung about when the other boys went out. : ; oe - During Dick’s absence a new boy had ar-— rived, His name was Albert Strange. Being a peculiar sort of boy, he was called by everybody Strange Albert. : ; Dick soon remarked him, and said to Messi-— ‘ter: ‘““'There’s a new fellow.” “Yes,” replied Messiter, ‘‘I’ye heard all about him. t's Strange Albert.” And he proceeded to tell him that he was considered eccentric, and got a good deal chaffed and teased by the other boys. ‘‘What’s that he’s got on his arm?” con-— tinued Dick. . : ‘Oh, that’s his magpie.” . “His what ?” os, “Tame bird—magpie—and a vers! clever 3 bird too. You should hear him draw corks,” — said Messiter. ae ‘*Let’s go over and talk to him.” 3 They did so. y, ie Albert Strange was sinsing, on a heap of | stones in a corner of the un ing a book about natural aintdieys eS os ‘* What’s your name?” said Dick, — Bs “Albert Strange,” replied a thin, pale, dark boy, with wonderfully piercing black eyes. ‘ “No, it isn’t; it’s Strange Albert,” replied — Dick. ‘*I shall have to tell the truth.” ; The boy put his book down, after carefully marking the place where he had left off with a blade of grass. ~ ‘Tet me alone, please,” he said, ‘*I don’t interfere with anybody.” re toate ‘You'd rather be friends than enemies?” ‘*Much rather, only I like to be by myself.” — “So you shall. But you won’t mind us talking to you now?” SEs “Oh, no, I like to talk,” replied Strange bert. ‘I’m only put out when fellows come pull my ears or knock my cap off.” ‘* Who does that?” - ; ‘‘ Armond, and other boys too.” “Tl stop him at that game, if I catch him, : lick you if you don’t — > said Dick. , A fc ‘““T wish you would, because I can’t fight,” — said Strange Albert, eagerly. ‘‘ I’mnot strong, _ and I’ve not been taught to fight. My m always told me not to.” Pp “You are religious, I suppose?” observed Messiter. ; pico te “Not very. I wish I were moreso; but have sufficient liking for my Bible and revyer- ence for holy things not to wish to have boy come to me and say bad words.” * “Is that Armond also?” asked Dick. i: “Tt’s all of them. They know it annoys me, _ and they come and do it on purpose. Ur you came to talk to me, this has bee: friend, » 7 vey + ¥: He pointed to his bird as he spok Tt was a handsome full-grown n
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sat with. perfect- confidence onits-master’s arm. _ What do you-call him ?” A io,” “‘T mean whatiis. the-animal’s name?” said Dick. ‘© Oh, Lcall him Jock:. Mind he don’t peck you. He did:Armond the other day,” replied Strange Albert, ; “Serve the beastright. Ihope he hurt him.” ‘* Armond says he will kill him, He declares ho will buy.a drawing-room pistol.and shoot: it. Thope he won’t, I should miss poor Jock so,” He stroked his bird affectionately. _ “St was a present tome from a cousin who had him before he died, and as my cousin and I were very fond of one another, I look upon Jock as a keepsake, as well as loving him.” “T should like to catch My, Cocky Armond trying to start a.single feather of Jock,” ex- _ claimed Dick, angrily. ** What would you do ?” **T’d give him whatfor. He knows I can _ slog, and he fights shy of me.” **You look strong, and I like your face,” said Albert; I study faces, and when I first saw you, [felt sorry you were going to be b flogged.” . t **Oh, I’ve got over that now, and I’m ready for another,” Dick rejoined with a laugh. “There, that’s what I have always argued. ‘These degrading punishments do no good,” eried Albert. : *¢ Don’t they ?” “Not a bit. They only harden a boy. You’re hardened ; you only laugh at it when it’s over and the pain’s gone.” - ‘*You’re a funny fellow,” said Dick, much amused, ‘‘ Quite a philosopher; I. don’t won- _ der they call you Strange Albert.” __ **Never mind what they call me; Ican af- ford to regard thém with contempt, so: long as : ey yet me alone. What I want to ask you-is “ Well; out with it,” said Dick. “Will you protect Jock from. Armond ?” continued Albert. | “ Of course I will, and you too.” _ Oh, never mind me; I can take care of my- _ self and creep away into some hole or corner; but the bird, poor thing, cannot always be in safety, though he’s got a nest or some place he goes to at night, and when I’m in school on _ the roof up there.’ _ ‘Will he come when you call him ?” “Directly. Dve only got: to whistle, and say ‘Jock, Jock,’ and he come’s fluttering - down immediately,” answered ‘Albert. «‘He’s a nice bird. I like old Joek, and you may make your mind easy about him; Armond - shan’t touch a feather.” Thank you. That assurance has made me fell more comfortable than I have been for a "week past.” _ A little boy came up at this moment, and said: _ & What do you want?” Not you,” said Dick. yourself scarce as soon as you like.” “*T heard somebody say ‘ Armond,’” “What of that? - You're not Cocky Armond, “Pm Axthond’s brother, Armond, junior, _ they call me. I’ve just come, and when I ’eard oe I thought ’d say ’ere,” replied the ‘Ere, you illiterate little beggar, you've opped something,” said Dick in a tone of sgust, i What's that?” ‘ hire said Dick. 5 ‘Armond, junior, who was a rough shaggy- haired boy of ten or eleven, with a heavy ex- pression, and great ears sticking out from the side of his head, did not seem to understand né joke. = be ‘Do you eat peas with your knife?” asked course Ido,” ‘replied Armond, junior. papeh “So you can make’ | dow ledge, treat. I must talk to you, Cocky, ' DICK. LIGHTHEARTS TRIALS, junior,” said: Dick; ‘“‘T'x glad we've. met. Quite a gift, isn’t he, Marry.?” *« Rather,” said Messiter. CHAPTER XV, THE LOST RING. “Waar did you come here for?” continued Dick, ‘Cos father said he could: put. me in cheap, and it would make a gentleman and a scholar of me,” replied young Armond, ‘Your governor must have a very strong belief in miracles,” said Dick. 3 Why 2” “To believe that you could ever rise above.a costermonger'’s barrow.” ‘¢ We haven't got no barrows ; oursis.a shop, and a proper one, too, inthe Commercial Road, Whitechapel,” said Armond, junior, angrily. ‘‘ What's the price of tripe?” asked. Dick, without laughing in the least. Messiter and Albert were both smiling. ‘“We can't do the best, and give you the ‘prime fat bits under eightpence a pouud, though we know it’s good;and have a name for it.” ‘So I should think. ‘Well, you can send me two ounces,” replied Dick. * Js this ere a game? ’Cos if it is, don’t you have no game on with me.” ‘‘T’m perfectly serious. Write home and give the order.” “My big brother can punch,” continued the young Armond, ‘‘and I'll tell him of you.” ‘*Do, Ishall be’so pleased,” replied Dick. ‘¢ What ar6é you a-grinnin’ at, ugly?” cried Armond, junior, furiously. “Did you speak to me?” demanded Strange Albert, ‘< Yes, you with the bird onyourarm, They call you the cranky lot, and I don’t think they’re far wrong.” ene Albert made no reply, but caressed his bird, “You won’t have no bird long,” continued Armond, junior, spitefully. ‘Shall I not?” said Albert. **Not you.” ‘‘How’s that ?” asked Dick, Armond, junior, winked and looked very knowing indeed. “¢Would you like to know ?” he answered. “Tf I shouldn’t, why did I ask ?” “Tl tell you. He won’t have his beast of a bird long, ’cos my big brother’s bought a gun to shoot it with!” ‘Has he ?* replied Dick; then take that and that, Mr. Cocky Armond, junior, and go and tell your big brother I licked you, and will serye him the same if he likes to come to me.” Dick had administered two good boxes on each ear, which made Armond, junior, howl wildly, ‘* Who are you ’itting of ?” he whined. “*You,” replied Dick. “Do you take me for a chump of wood?” ‘*Go and learn grammar.” ‘‘ That's what I came here for, If a chap has got nothing to learn, what does he go to school for? When I’ve been at Simcox’s as long as you, I'll beat your head off,” replied young Armond, | Be off, or Pll ‘Out it! Yousmell of tripe. help you along,” said Dick, ing bis fist at his tormentor, Armond, junior, ran. aw: i pour his grief into his brother’s sym: etic ear. - “Vulgar little boy,” remarked Dick. “I’m glad he’s gone.” ; “ “Did you hear what he said about Jock ?” asked Albert. ‘I did. We must look out.” : The bell now rang for the boys to go in, and wash their hands before dinner, “Wy away,” said Albert, letting the magpie. og 0. / Jock flew up in the air, and settled on a win- *< That's Mrs. Simcox’s room,” said Dick. ‘‘Took,” cried. Messiter, ‘‘the bird's gone. right inside,” : ‘So he has, but he ain’t-stopped long,” an- swered Albert. ‘‘See, he’s come out and has flown. up to his. nest, or whatever he’s got on the housetop.” “I should like to go and explore his dig- gings,” said Messiter. In fact, the magpie had gone inte Mr Sim cox’s room,. staying.a brief space and then fly- ing out again. om The boys ran indoors, and it being rather late, Dick did not stay to wash his hands, but: went straight to the passage leading to the din-. ing-room, The smell of roast-mutton ascended from the kitchen. ‘*Mutton again!” muttered Dick, with a groan. ‘Tg it?” said Messiter, who was close be- hind him, ‘* You've followed my example, and mean to dine in your dirt,” remarked Dick, **Don’t be a beast. We stopped watehing that magpie so long, that I was afraid of being late.” “‘So was I, and Snarley has got his knife in- to usso hard that I don’t like to give him half a chance.” ‘Nor I,” replied Messiter. ‘But this mut. ton question is becomingserious. We've had mutton every day this week, and to-morrow’s Saturday,” “So it is, Hurrah! for the half-holiday. E wonder if they'll let us out with the other boys.” “* Not they.” “Then we'll have a dust up at home ; get: over the wall and see the girls, or something,” answered Dick. ‘ ** Come on and let us eat our mutton, though I shall be ashamed to look a sheep in the face soon, because I’ve consumed so many of his. kindred.” *‘ Here’s Mother Simeox,” whispered Dick.. The mistress had just descended the stairs, having been up to her bedroom to “tidy her-. self up,” as she expressed it, before giving the ~ young gentlemen the dinner she had “helped: to prepare for them, ““Hoh ! Lightheart,” she said. «« What have I done now ?” thought Dick. “T shall slope,” said Messiter, who vanished. into the dining-room. “Yes, ma’am,” said Dick, respectfully, ‘“‘ Hi have left my di’mond ring on the dress-. ing-table in my. room. or on the washstand when I cleaned myself. Run you up and. bring it down.” . “Tn your bedroom, ma’am’?” said Dick, «Yes. First-floor—looks onthe play-ground.. Be quick, there’s a good boy ; I oan hear Mr, Simcox a-saying of grace halready.” ; Away ran Dick, three steps at a time, while. Mrs. Simcox waited for him in the passage. He found the bedroom and searched on the. dressing-table, on the washstand, and’on the floor, hut he could discover no trace of the: diamond ring. sige «Tt isn’t here,” he muttered ; ‘ the old girl! must have made a mistake.” He ran down stairs again as quickly as he could. < ** Give it ere,” said Mrs. Simcox,. . «Please ma‘am, I can’t find it,” he replied. “Can't find it? Nonsense —you havyen’t looked.” st “Yes, I have, ma’am—looked everywhere;. It isn’t in the room.” “You boys are hall ’arfstupid, I think, late. ly,” she said ina toneof annoyance. ‘‘ Go in-. to your dinner, do,” ; He entered the room, and she went up to look for the missing ring. : = “Late again, Lightheart,” said the professor, who was carving 4 haunch of mutton, oe ‘“‘T’ve been on an errand for Mrs, Simcox, sir,” said Dick. _ 3 Priapree ‘Oh, that alters the case. Sit down,” said Mr, Simcox. ; oe Ge Presently a servant came in and told the pro- stairs. | fessor that his wife was in hysterics up stairs,
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nothing to conceal,” said Dick. DICK LIGHTHEART’S TRIALS. Asking Mr. Snarley to be good enongh to continue carving, the professor left the room. He did not return till dinner was nearly over. Then he beckoned to Dick, and said: “Taghtheart, I want you.” Dick got up with his mouthful of pudding. ‘“‘What is it, sir?’ he asked, following his master into the passage. “You'd better not try those tricks on here, sir,” replied Mr. Simcox. ‘What tricks, sir ?”’- “Ts a felony, mind that.” *« What, sir ?” Dick was in «# state of amazement. ‘*M Simcox’s ring is gone. She left it on the wash-stand. She remembers that dis tinctly; and we have proof that no one but you entered the room afterwards.” Dick colored up to his ears. ‘What amI to understand by that?” he de- amanded. ‘“Tt comes to this. We know your character ; there’s nothing you wou’t do. You're the scapegrace of the school.” “Go on, sir,” said Dick, calmly. “And Mrs. Simcox is satisfied that you have stolen the ring.” Dick was about to say that he had never been called a thief before. : But he recollected Captain Hanger, and the attempt he had made on his father’s cash-box. He hung down his head, and was for a mo- ment overwhelmed. “What have you to say?” asked the pro- fessor, sternly. ‘‘ Giveupthe ring,” he added, as Dick made no answer, ‘‘and I will consider what is to be done with you.” Dick recovered himself. ““On my honor,” he exclaimed, ‘‘I have never seon the ring. I did not know that Mrs. Simcox had such a ia a8 “Tt was a present m me a day or two back, anda valuable one,” said the professor. The fact was that Captain Sanderson had given hima very handsome sum as compensa- tion for the shot fired from his yacht, : Out of this money he had bought his wife the valuable diamond ring in question. *¥ declare, solemnly, sir,” continued Dick, *‘that I know no more than a baby about it.” = Do you adhere to your refusal to give it up?” ‘ “How can I give up what I haven't got?” “Don’t argue the point with me,” cried Mr. ‘Simcox, sternly. ‘‘ Will you confess ?” a Dick remained obstinntely silent. ~ Going to the dining-room door, Mr, Simcox -eried : “Mr. Snarley.” ‘* Sir,” replied the usher. “*T want you:for a moment.” Mr. Snarley joined the professor in the pas- ge. “Mrs. Simcox has lost a diamond ring, and ‘she accuses Lightheart of stealing it.” “‘ Indeed, sir,” said the usher. ‘Tam sorry to think any of my boys capable of committing such a base, dishonest action, ‘but T'consider it my duty to order him to be searched. Is there any objection to that course 2” _ *T can see none, sir.” -““ You may search me and welcome. I have Mr. Snarley carefully examined his pockets and even his boots. : _ Nothing was discovered. “Now, sir,” said Dick, triumphantly, “are _ you satisfied ?” “No, I'am not; the suspicion lurks in my __ mind still,” answered the professor. “J will give you my word of honor ”’—— ‘be- ~ gan Dick. “Never mind. T attach little value to your protestations,” replied Mr. Simcox, severely, as he ee " tue : ee ‘panions, and depend upon it, I will investigate this mysterious Mffair to the end.” er = oe hard that ”—— ‘Mr. Simcox interrupted him again. ota ‘word,” he said. join your com- “Tf Tam wrong, I! am sorry, but you are such a bad boy, and ap- pearances are so strong against you, that I can- not act in any different manner; go.” Dick walked away, holding his head proudly erect, for he knew that he was innocent. ice Bae Snarley,” said the professor. “ ir. ” a ‘‘ Watch that boy. Let Armond and Smith watch him also.” ** Yes, sir,” replied the usher. **Do not let him out of your sight. He may have hidden the ring on the stairs, or some- where, intending to fetch it at his leisure.” **He shall be carefully looked after,” said Mr. Snarley. ‘My wife feels the loss very much. She is hysterical. I must go to her,” continued Mr. Simcox. He walked away, but stopping suddenly, he added: “‘Make no public accusation against Light- heart. ‘We may be wrong after all. Keep the affair private for the present.” ‘*T will do so, sir,” replied Mr. Snarley. Mr. Simcox rejoined his wife, who, with all & woman’s j{mpulsiveness, was certain and pos- itive, and would take her oath, she said, that Lightheart had stolen her new ring, No one else had been in the room. She remembered leaving it the moment before on the wash-stand. j He was a scamp, and always ‘‘ up to some larks or mischief.” Therefore he must be the thief. Thus stood the case against our hero, OMAPTER, XVI. ’ ARMOND’S ORUELTY. Masstrur was very anxious fo know why Dick was called out of his room without being allowed to finish his dinner. The boys were strolling about the playground for a little while ‘before the school-bell rang, and Messiter ran up to his friend directly he made his appearance. ood saw in 2 moment thatsomething had hap- pened. Dick’s was an expressive countenance, and the observer could read in it what was passing in his mind. ‘‘What’s the row, Dick?” asked Messiter, much concerned, “T don’t like to tell you. It’s infamous,” replied Dick, who was as much angry as hurt, ‘*T’m your friend. Pour out your troubles; it will do you good. Has Armond been sneak- ing about anything ?” “No,” replied Dick, curtly. “Don’t be sulky, old fellow. What is it?” continued Messiter. ‘‘ Mrs. Simcox has lost her ring.” “Then let old Simcox buy her another. don’t see much to be cut up about in that.” ,‘*They want to say I stole it.” ‘‘Oh, that’s a horse of another color,” an- swered Messiter, with a whistle. ‘‘I don’t like that.” , “You know the old girl sent me up for her ring ke “No, Idon’t. I did not hear what she said to you,” answered Messiter. : “* Well, she did. That’s what she stopped me for in the passage. I went to the bed-room and couldn’t find it, and now they say I took it,” I ‘repeated Dick. ‘Who says so'?” ‘*She does, and Siméox, too.” “Did Simcox tell you openly you were the— “@ ahem—the thief? Excuse the question, but ”-— | “Yes, he did; and had me searched by -Snarley,” interrupted Dick, fiercely. | ; ‘* Well, that beats everything; after that, as the astonished barber observed, ‘In tame a monkey to be shaved and-a horse to have his toenails cut !’” cried Messiter. “Don’t chaff, I’m not in the humor for it,” ‘said Dick, = UR Se Soe ‘say I was your “Nor am IL They might accomplice, and you passed it to me, as you and I sit next to one another at dinner.” ‘You're chaffing again. Shut up,” replied Dick, angrily. ‘Seriously, what are you going to de?” asked Messiter. ‘“Take a cold bath, I think.” : _ ‘What's that, if I may make so bold as te inquire ?” “*Go down to the end of the Chain Pier and jump into the sea,” said Dick. “Dick!” replied Messiter, anxiously. “* What now ?” ‘¢ Are you in earnest ?” “‘Upon my word I am. I can’t stand this sort of thing. It’s past a joke.” “So it is, but you musn’t be rash.” ‘They put everything upon me. Half the fellows in the school say I cut the rope at the gymnasium, when Armond did it.” “It’s your own fault. Giye a dog a bad name, and” ie ‘Hang him you mean,” said Dick, as Mes- siter hesitated. ‘‘Thank you, I did not ex- pect this from you, Harry; but there is no such thing as friendship.” : “Yes, there is, Dick. I’m your friend. I am indeed,” Messiter hastened to say, ‘‘and T am really awfully sorry if any stupid chaff of mine has worried you.” ; “You've done it; you’ve said several hard things to me, and you know I’m in trouble, and not so well able to stand it as I should be at any other time.” . “Forgiveme. I'll never do it again,” Mes- ‘siter said. ; He held out his hand, and Dick’ grasped it warmly. : ‘He could not forget their long friendship, and he said: ‘It’s all right, old boy. Perhaps I’m cross, ‘At all events, I believe you didn’t mean it.” ‘I swear I didn’t,” said Messiter. : Armond happened to be standing near them and saw them shake hands. ; Mr. Snarley had instructed “him to watch Dick, and rather injudiciously told him what ~ for. ‘‘Quite affecting,” said Armond, with a sneer. ‘‘ What’s that you say?” asked Dick, turning sharply round. ; : : ‘«T like to see fellows affectionate.” : “ You shut up, or you can havé another fight if you like,” replied Dick, fiercely. : “Very well, form a ring; you're fond of rings, ain’t you?” answered Armond, pro- vokingly. “Oh,” said Dick, ‘‘ who told you that?” ‘© Never mind. I know it, and how would you like me to tell all the fellows ?” eo * Tell them what you like ; it will be false, that’s all.” Armond put his hands in his pockets and went away whistling. \ ; ‘He knows all about it,” remarked Messiter. ‘‘Of course. He’s one of the spies of the establishment,” answered Dick. ‘‘ How I hate: the beast. gi ‘*So do I; but I wouldn’t provoxe him, at’ least not just now. Perhaps he hos been told of the ring affair, though others y yy not have heard of it.” : — é Suddenly loud cries arose at another part of the glayground.” aay ; A supplicating voice said: ; ‘* Oh, don’t, Armond ; please, please, don’t!” “Stand back!” replied Armond, ‘Don't kill my poor bird,” continued the yoice.* ‘‘ I’ll give you anything ifyou won't!” — ‘That's Strange Albert talking,” said Dick, “ Yes,” answered. Messiter, ‘‘and Cocky’Ar- ‘mond is going to shoot his bird. Isawihim - ‘with a pistol this morning.” aise Dick sprang forward with a bound. ~ There was a dangerous light in his eyes. Armond was standing under the tree pla have spoken‘a ie I tree in whichth idde: ; converse
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DICK LIGHTHEART'’S. TRIALS. es ee eeTTTTTTeeTeFeFeFeSeSeeeeTFTNTFTFfFeT 06O6O010 888808080800 0X0 0X XX OSS Mr. tae had so artfully put him on his ard. _ Before Dick could reach him the mischief was done. = He held a pistol in his hand, and had pointed it at the magpie, which he had startled from its security on its master’s arm. Jock tried to reach the tree, and succeeded, but he perched within sight and range. Armond pulled the trigger. The bird uttered a loud cry, and fluttered down among the leaves, where he lay in a fork, making a great commotion. _‘* You cowardly rascal,” cried Dick, seizing him by the collar and hurling him violently backwards. Strange Albert was in the direst distress. * Oh, climb up, some one,” he exclaimed. **T can’t climb. I'll giveanyone half a sovereign to get my bird down; perhaps he’s not dead.” _ Armond rose to his feet, and approached Dick threateningly. ‘How dare you assault me like that?” he asked. ‘You're a disgrace to the school, you low bully,” replied Dick. “TY should think you were. Who stole Mrs. Bimcox’s ring?” said Armond. A crowd of boys had assembled, as boys al- ways will when they think there is a row going on. “* What's that ?” asked Brabazon. “What I say,” replied Armond, “Did Lightheart steal Mrs. Simcox’s ring?” inquired Fowler. “*Yes, hedid, and he can’t deny it. If you don’t believe me, go and ask Mr. Simecox or Mr, Snar- Dick sprang upon Armond, and would have strangled him, had not Brabazon and Fowler interfered. “‘PU shove the lie down his throat,” cried Dick, hoarse with passion. Ce **Pull him off,” gasped Armond. ‘At length the big boys succeeded in doing so, and Dick stood pantingly glaring at his enemy. Meanwhile, Strange Albert’s distress at the injury done to his pet bird was pitiable to wit- ness; toes “Tt was my only friend,” he sobbed; ‘‘ oh, do go after it, some one.” Messiter, who was a good climber, ascended _ the tree, and speedily reached the fork where the bird was resting. ‘He took him up gently, and put him in his cap. As he did so, he dislodged a book which was on the branch, and it fell to the ground. Dick looked at it as it fellat his feet, and picked it up. - : “ Give that vo me,” said Armond, furiously. _ “Why ?” asked Dick, who had got over his passion. He had shaken Armond well, and it had done him good. ‘Because it's mine,” said Armond, who was very pale, “Tt fell out of the tree and I shall keep it,” _ gaid Dick, “*Tt’s my book. I put it there.” _ _ “J shall examine it, and if I find it is really yours, I'll give it you,” Dick said; ‘‘ but at _ present it goes into my pocket.” ____ Armond tried to rush at him and tear it from als grasp. Brabazon and Fowler interfered, saying: “ We'll have no fighting now.” wee “But he’s got my book—my diary, I tell you.” « \ tree is a funny place to keep a diary in, m, complain to Mr. Snarley,’’ said Fowler. here’s the bell for school,” said Brabazon. * All in, all in,” cried the boys. - With a sort of instinct Dick determined not to give up the book. At present he did not know the value of the prize which had fallen into his hands. ; _ Armond had cruelly tried to kill Strange rt 8 bi ut he had done himselfan ir- ‘ but if it is yours, and Lightheart will not give | you zs in the gymnasium, had fallen into the pos- session of the very boy of all others he wished to keep it out of. This was even-handed justice. CHAPTER XVII. DICKS FIRST TRIUMPH. Messtrrr gave the wounded bird to Strange Albert, who examined it carefully. As far as he could ascertain, it was not much injured. A shot had apparently struck its right wing and crippled it. He took it into school with him, and made it a nest in his locker, which he propped open with a ruler to let the air in. Most of the boys thought ita great shame that Armond should wantonly shoot the bird, and Albert had their sympathy, In the middle of the school, the magpie, not liking the confinement, stepped out of the locker, with his wounded wing hanging by his side, and walking up the room, made a peculiar noise, as if he was drawing corks. “What is that?” said Mr. Simcox, who was in the midst of ascientific discussion with the head of his class. Albert rose and replied : “Tt’s my magpie, sir.” ‘How dare you bring the creature into school to disturb our studiesy Havel not cautioned you all against such practices, which are subversive of all discipline? If boys will keep pets, let them provide proper places for them, or I shall cancel my permission for them to have any pets at all,” said the pro- fessor. P “TJ couldn’t help bringing him in with me, sir,” exclaimed Albert. ‘sHow was that?” ‘‘He was so much hurt, I don’t want, to telltales of anybody, but if you ask Armond, senior, he will tell you all about it, sir,” con- tinued Albert. , Armond wasin the professor's class, and looking at him, Mr. Simcox said: : ‘¢ What is the meaning of this ?” Armond remained silent, ‘Pll tell you, sir, since Armond won’t speak,” exclaimed Brabazon. ce Well 2” “The bird is Strange’s property, and he thinks a great deal of it. Armond bought a small pistol to kill it, fired at it, and wounded it in the wing.” “J dare say Armond had some good reason for doing so,” replied Mr. Simcox, who had just borrowed some more money from Armond’s father, and wished to screen him if possible, ‘Yes, I had, sir. .The bird was a nuisance, and I thought Strange would be bringing it into school some day to annoy you,” answered Ar- mond, ‘Ah! just so. Iam glad to see that one of my boys, at least, has some consideration for me in my arduous duties,” said Mr. Simcox. “Tf boys are encouraged to keep pets, we shall have some one starting a tame snake or a tiger cub,” continued Armond. ‘Quite so. The school will become a beast show. Very good. However, the bird seems harmless enough. Do not shoot at it again.” ‘No, sir,” replied Armond. ‘¢You may carry your zeal for me too far.” “Tdid not wish to hurt the bird, sir,” Ar- mond said, hypocritically. ‘‘I was only trying to do my duty, and make things pleasant for ” “Exactly. Iunderstand. Go on with your lesson, and you, Strange, take your bird away. Put it in the playground. We cannot have it making those odd noises here.” _~ Strange Albert got up and tenderly took his et away, making it a bed on some coats in the vatory. f Dick was highly shown to Arm : ee jinee --*Tf any one else had done half so much,” he whispered to Messiter, “‘he would haye been 4 aned within an inch of his life.’ - ‘* Armond never gets into a row for anything he does,” replied Messiter. . ‘No. Because he sneaks and crawls up to the masters.” ‘* Silence in class,” cried Mr. Simcox; talking there ?” Presently all was quiet, and strange Albert returned. He had oiled the bird’s wing, and it seemed more comfortable. Dick was very anxious for school to be over, because he wanted to have a look at Armond’s diary. More out of.a feeling of fun and mischief than anything else. At present he did not suspect the value of its contents to him; Armond was alsoanxious to get out of school, for he hoped he could bully or coax Dick into giving him back the book. At last books were shut up, and there was a rush for the playground. Armond and some of his friends collected to- gether to talk the matter of the bird over. ‘‘l’d make sure of him next time,” said 6ne.. ‘So I will,” replied Armond. ‘‘Mr. Sim- cox told me not to shoot him, but he didn’t say anything about wringing his neck.” “Tf you do, I'll wring yours, you coward,” replied Dick, who was pass ng by. “‘You’d better shut up,” said Armond. ‘TI know too much about you.” “T shall treat you with contempt,” continued: Dick. ‘I won’t talk to you; but I warn you, if you cross me or hurt Strange Albert's bird, Tl give you something you won't forget in a:- hurry.” > “Two can play at that game,” Armond an- swered. ‘But Idon’t want to have a row with you, under the peculiar circumstances in which you are placed.” Tis}. sh ““What do you mean ?” asked Dick, flushing. ‘*Only this. If what is alleged against you can be proved, you ought to be cut by the whole ‘no Just before school he | 8 indignant at the favoritism | school, for you are not a fit associate for any of us.” j : > Dick clenched his fists, but he kept his tem- er. na s ‘‘What’s that, Armond ?” asked three oz four boys in a breath. Ps “*T can’t tell you now. Perhaps Mr. Simcox . will let you all know coon. Lightheart under- stands me perfectly ; buf, as I said before, TL would rather be his friend until he is proved. uilty.” BS ‘Look here, you fellows,” exclaimed Dick, “Tve got nothing to be ashamed of, because I. know I’m innocent, but I would rather you heard all about it at once thanbe prejudiced by Armond’s insinuations, If I had really com- mitted a murder he couldn’t say more.” ‘About what?” asked Fowler, who hadi joined the group. on ee ‘This -is it,” Dick went on; ** Mrs. Simcox. left her diamond ring in her bed-room just be fore dinner,” E ate ‘« Well.” ‘‘She sent me up stairs for it, I couldn’t find: it anywhere, and she saysI must have taken it.?” 2 i F APs al “Stolen it, you mean,” putin Armond, tes “By Jove! you willhave it; will you?” said: Dick. mum st j He dashed out his fist to strike Armond, but. — the latter ducked his head, and the blow missed him. a ah said Armond, “Dodged you that time,” smiling.
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DICK LIGHTHEARTS TRIALS. ~~ “Tcan’t have any pax with~you,” replied Dick, stubbornly. “You can't say I put it about. You told of the ring being lost yourself.” ‘ “‘Tt was your sneering that made me do it; So that’s just as bad as if you had spoken “out- right. It will be all over the school now in half an hour.” ** Never mind ; if you’re innocent, it will be all right.” “Tf! Confound your impudence! You know I’m innocent,” cried Dick. “How should I know it?” asked Armond. “Stand back, or I shallstrike you, and when my monkey’s up, I hit hard.” ‘* Will you jrive me my diary?” asked Armond. ‘No, I won't, that’s flat.” o ‘‘A fellow must be a beastly cad to keep nother fellow’s private diary,” said Armona, biting his lips. “Perhaps I’m everything that is bad. We shall know sonie day who the villain is. At all events, 've got your diary, and I mean to stick to it for the present.” With this, Dick defiantly walked away, leav- ing Armond much annoyed,.and wondering how he could get the tell-tale book into his posses- sion again. ‘“*T was a double-distilled ass,” he muttered, “to leave it up that tree. Hang the bird for fal- ling there. ng Messiter for climbing and dislodging the book. Hang everything, hang everybody.” Dick walked away, and stood moodily leaning against the wall, pudseely, he heard a voice say : «t Hi ” . “He looked around and could see no one. ** Hi! sir,” continued the voice. This time he looked up.) He saw perched on the wa 1 figure that he knew well. age _ It was Jackson, the attendant at the gymna- sium. “* What do you want ?” asked Dick, who was not in a humor to speak to anyone. ** Can I say a few words to you, sir?” * Yes, spin along.” «Tye been looking for you everywhere, sir,” eontinued Jackson. ~ ** You knew where tofind me. They’ve kept me in lately ; that’s why you did not see me out,” *‘Mr. Armond, sir, cut the rope.” , “That's stale news,” replied Dick. “Yes, it is to us, sir,” replied Jackon, “but ___ we couldn’t prove it, and we can now.” Dick’s face lighted up. “How ?” he demanded. “Tt’s written down in his diary, sir. I was lying on the beach, and I heard him tell Mr. Smith that he had made a confession of it in his diary, which he had hidden. If any one can find it, you, can.” bs Dick’s heart beat tate Tonely. At last he saw a way of Clearing his character ‘from one charge. ; é **Go-on,” he said. i “T saw Simcox, sir,” continued Jackson, -**and he said he had searched Mr. Armond’s _ locker, and there was no such thing as a diary in it, therefore Tam sure it must be hidden semewhere.” This is a slice of luck,” he cried, joyfully. aa Te sare coming all right at last. Hur- “ Don’t forget the witness.” “NotI, sir, Tl take the landlord of the __ house where 'm lodging ; and now good-by. We'll clearit allup. God bless you, sir,” said Jackson. ar are The next moment he h#d dropped off the aa disappeared, ee a5 * Armond had watched this interview from a nce, and came up to Dick oe was that you were g _ Stretching out his hand, Dick said : \ lip _ « _| “he was very much to blame in givin gway to} _ «That's my business,” answered Dick, with a triumphant smile. ** Wasn't it Jackson, the gym?” ‘You are at liberty to think so, if you) choose.” ; “What did you give him?” persisted Ar- mond. “Your diary,” answered Dick, with a grin. Armond. became deadly pale. ‘‘Which isthe worst?” asked Dick, pursu- ing his triumph, ‘‘the fellow who deliberately cuts arope with the intention of maiming or | killing another, or the one whois wrongfully suspected of stealing a ring.” ‘You're in league with that fellow,” replied Armond, savagely. ‘‘ I'll go and ask Mr. Sim- cox.” “Cutaway, Cocky. You're in for it this time, or J’]l eat my hat,” cried Dick, laughing. CHAPTER XVIII. THE ADVANTAGE OF BEING A FAVORITE, In the evening Mr. Simcox sent for Mr. Snarley. The latter found the professor in his study, smoking a cigar, and preparing to look over a pile of exercises. “Sit down, Snarley; take a cigar, and help ourself to some sherry, which you will find in the cheffonier.” Mr. Snarley did so. The sherry was glasses, then a third, “ Fine wine, that?” said Mr. Simcox,’ rather piankly, ashe saw his sherry disappear rap- idly. “Capital; sir, I never wishto drink better.” “‘Armond’s father sentit me. A very good man is that,” replied Mr. Simeox; ‘you know that he accommodates me in the way of money sometimes, Mr. Snarley.” “‘T have heard you say s0, sir.” “But the worst of it is that he will deduct a certain amount from the bill, and make me take it out in Wine and pictures. Look at those in the corner, There is a Raphael, and a Titan, and a Teniers.” “Not genuine, I should think, sir,” replied Mr. Snarley, eyeing the paintings critically. * Possibly not. But that is not what I wanted good, and he took two to talk to you about. I have had a visit from’ Armond, and from that gymnasium fellow, Jackson.” “Indeed, sir, I thought that affair of the rope was forgotten.” **So did I,” said Mr. Simcox. ‘‘ I was mistak- en, however, for the fellow has found Armond’s dairy, in which he was foolish enough to puc down every thing that happened, and in it he finds an account of cutting ropes.” ‘*T am sorry to hear that, for I didn’t think Armond Soe of such a thing.” “He’s the son of a bill-discounter, and a Whitechapel man. We donot expect a high standard of honor from such a direction,” said Mr. Simecox, cynically. ‘What shall you do?” : “That is just what I wanted to consult you about.” ‘Send him away,” suggested Mr. Snarley. ‘*T cannot do that, because the money I owe his father would become due if I sent the -son away; therefore, expelling him is out of the question.” “Tt’s all that wretched boy Lightheart’s fault,” said Mr. Snarley. . : ‘*So itis. I-wish he wasout of the school or had never come to it.” ‘There is that affair of the ring.” **So there is. Mrs, Simcox is very much | put out about it. We cannot find itanywhere, and the presumption is that Lightheart took it—stole it, in fact.” “Certainly, sir.” ‘* Armond is ourright-hand man. He brings us information respecting all that goes on in the school. 3 cannot make an exampleofhim. Can I?” **T do not see how you:¢an, sir.” “Tf he cut therope,” continued Mr. Simcox, np Sioa 22 oT |hstemper, but he tells me that Lightheart | had aggravated him until he wasalmost mad.” “‘ What does the gymnasium attendant ask for?” said Mr. Snarley. ** Money or punishment. He says that um less Armond gives him/fifty pounds, he will summon him in the Brighton police-court, an@ expose the whole affainw’” ~ : “Did he say that?” “*Undoubtedly. The fellow was very bold and brazen.” answered Mr. Simeox; ‘‘I may almost call him insolent in the extreme.” ‘* Perhaps the better way will be for Armond to write to his father ank state the case, mak- ing it an accident, and say that he requires fifty pounds as compensation for this Jackson,” ‘“*A very excellent idea,” answered Mr. Sim~ cox, ‘‘and one I highly appprove of.” ‘There is another question, sir,” said Mr, Snarley. ° ‘ “You allude to Lighthsart’s position.” “Tdo. He will want his character cleared, and no doubt he will insist upon it, for I ex- pect he is working in with Jackson.” ; ‘*He is. Armond told me how the diary got into his possession,and that Lightheart boasted I am indebted to his father, and I |_ he had given it to Jackson,” answered Mr. Sim- COX. ‘*What is to be done? It will not do to de- grade Armond in the eyes of his school-fellows,” said Snarley. ‘ “Certainly not. He isa great fayorite of mine, and I am willing to believe that he acted under great provocation. We must ignore Lightheart, and pay the man Jackson.” ‘* A very wise decision, sir, Shall Isend Ar- mond to you?” ‘Not now,” replied Mr. Simcox. ‘I think we have hit upon a way out of the difficulty, though I must confess that if I did not owe Armond’s father money, I should see justice done.” : A footstep was heard on the threshold, and a voice said: © ; ‘* Justice. Certainly, always do justice.” Tt was Mr. Markwell who had come in fronz a walk. ‘He inquired what the subject under discus- sion was, and Mr. Simcox informed him. ‘Tt seems to me,” he replied, ‘‘ that this boy,. Armond, has behaved very badly, and that & great injustice has been done to Lightheart.” ‘*Yes, yes,” answered Mr, Simcox, testily 5 ‘“but there are pectliar relations between Ar- mond’s father and me, so that we must hush the matter up by payment of the man Jackson’s demands.” ‘Have I heard aright?” cried Mr. Markwell, indignantly. : -*T have striven to convey my meaning ag well as I am able.” wee ‘Then all I can say is, that I will not con- tinue to conduct this school with you another day!” answered Mr. Markwell, The professor stared at him in blank amaze- ment, ‘* Would you sever the friendly nature of 04% intercourse for such a trifle?” he asked. - “A trifle!” repeated Mr. Markwell. ‘De you call it a trifle to allow a stain to rest unde- servedly upon a boy’s character? IhopeTam — a gentleman and a Christian, and I will be na party to it.” “Sir!” replied Mr. Simcox. guage "—— See ‘This language,” interrupted Mr. Markwell, _ ‘ig justified by the course you have adopted. — It may, suit your tool, Mr, Snarley, to fallin — with your views; I neither can nor bet eae aye ‘Well, well, do not be in such a hurry to condemn us,” said the professor, adding, as he saw Mr. Snarley was abont to speak. ‘‘ Snar- ley, be silent. I order you not to speak, This” is no quarrel of yours. We will hear what Mr. Markwell, my esteemed friend, Markwell, i tosay.” re ‘* What T have to say will not take lo; claimed Markwell. ‘You must do j this boy, and consequently you must Armond.” F “In what way ? < Xs S é ae “This Ian,
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and flabby. “Way,” answered Mr. Markwell. ‘The j | take the law into our own hands.” “magnitude of the punishment ought to be pro- portioned to the offense. I will leave that to you. justice, and I shall be satisfied, If not, we separate ; for I will"never be a party to carry on a school on false principles.” “Very well. I give you my assurance to that effect. Armond is too big to be caned or flogged, and I will make him apologize to Lightheart in private.” “Before the whole school,” insisted Mr. Markwell. : ‘There may be-a difficulty about that.” “Tf so, let two boys—say Brabazon and Fowler—be selected to hear his apology. What do you say to that?” ‘«That may be managed,” answered Mr. Sim- @ox, after a moment’s hesitation. e Is it finally settled?” demanded Mr. Mark- w : : ‘Tt is. Forgive, I beg of you, whatI can only call an error of—ahem—of judgment.” ‘Certainly, There is my hand; not another word shall pass my lips respecting it,” said Mr. Markwell, good-naturedly. Mr. Snarley was instructed to seek Armond, and inform him that it was clearly proved against him that he had cut the rope at the genni, and put the fault upon «nother oy. He did not like to hear that it was decided that he should apologize to Dick, but he felt he would rather do that than his father should hear of his bad behavior. That he could get fifty pounds for Jackson, if the affair was represented in the light of an accident, he did not doubt. Indeed, he did get it in a few days. Humbling himself before Dick was the worst part oi the matter. It was arranged that his penance should take place in Mr. Simcox’s study. Fowler and Brabazouz were summoned to at- tend at the same time, though they did not know for what. they were wanted. : ‘ Mr. Snarley ushered them into the room, an ey away, returning with Armond and Light- Do eae _ Mr. Simcox and Markwell sat side by side at a table. : Armond was paler. than usual, for he knew what was coming. Mr. Markwell spoke: ** Armond,” he exclaimed, ‘‘you have been guilty of a grave offense, and you are here to make reparation; do so.” In a low voice, so low as to be scarcely audi- ble, Armond said : “T admit that I cut the rope, hoping to hurt Lightheart, but not seriously, whea we met in the gymnasium. I had cut the rope early in the evening, knowing it would not be touched till we had used it, and I am sorry for it.” Brabazon and Fowler regarded one another with the utmost astonishment. : Dick had rather expected what was coming, and he was not so much surprised. _ That is right,” said Mr. Markwell, ‘‘you have expressed your sorrow. Nowshake hands and be friends. It is lucky no greater harm came of it.” _ Dick extended his hand, and said in a frank, hearty voice : de ‘‘T do not bear any malice, Armond.” Armond looked at him in a way which seemed to say, ‘ But I do.” __ ** However he took the proffered hand.” His grasp was cold and clammy, and to shake his hand was like clasping the fin of a fish, wet ‘The eeremouy being over; the boys retired i ; a and Dick was heartily congratulated by Fowler -and Brabazon. ‘ Ig this all that is to be done to him ?” ‘T believe so,” replied Dick. _ It isa great shame,” remarked _Brabazon. c Pee Give me your assurance that you will do | _ When they reached the school-room, Fowler If Mr. Simeox doesn’t punish him for doing DICK LIGHTHEART'S TRIALS. such a dastardly thing, I think we ought to “*SodoI,” added Fowler; ‘‘ but how was it found ont, and brought home to him?” Dick toid him. ‘«T shall inform all the fellows,” said Braba- zon, ‘‘and then we will see if Mr. Cocky Ar- mond’?—— ‘© B. B.,” put in Dick. ** Yes; I forgot that. escape us 80’ easily.” T say !” cried Fowler. ** What ?” asked Brabazon. ‘¢ Make him run the gauntlet. We haven't had a run since Esling was expelled.” ‘¢ Bravo !” cried Brabazon, ‘‘ that’s a rattling good idea.” We shall see if he will CHAPTER XIX. RUNNING THE GAUNTLET, Dick himself would have been satisfied with Armond’s apology ; but as he was always ready for any mischief, he readilyi. Uin with Fowler’s proposal that Armond shouk ‘be made to run the gauntlet. Brabazon told several boys how Armond had, been found out. The news was also propagated by Messiter, who was delighted to think that Dick’s char- acter was gradually being eleared from the charges brought against him. Everyone in the school was indignant with Armond. Those who had been his most intimate friends fell away from and turned against him. It was the general opinion that he ought to have been publicly birched, as Dick had been after his running away with the balloon. Some declared he deserved to be expelled. Armond had only one friend left, and that -was the sneak, Smith. He saw that his old companions and as- sociates turned coldly on him. Assuming an indifference he did not really feel, he thought they would make itup_ina few days, and forget.all about it. Smith had heard the boys talking, and he came to Armond in the play ground to tell him the news. “Well, what do the fellows say?” he asked eagerly. : With all his pretended carelessness, he was very anxious to know what was said about hin. ‘«Byeryone thinks you behaved badly, and that you arenot a gentleman,” replied Smith. ‘Ts that all?” “Oh! that’srunning the gauntlet, is it ?” said Armond, between his clenched teeth. “Yes ; and Brabazon says he hopes. you will like it.” “JT won’t doit. They can’t make me run.” ‘You'll have to,” replied Smith. ‘If you | don’t, they say they will lead you such a life that you won’t be able to stay in the school. When you have run the gauntlet, they will not chaff you any more about cutting the rope, and everything will go on as usual.” “*Tt’s a nice lookout. When amI todo it? asked Armond, ‘This afternoon, after four o’clock school. * Armond leant against the wall, looking the picture of misery. The luck was turning against him now, and he did not know how to avoid the rather cruel but just resolve of his school-fellows. That he had deserved it all he could not deny for a moment. 3 He would reach the end of the row of angry and yelling boys black and blue, sore all over, aching from his head to his feet. The prospect was not a cheering one. To tell Mr. Simcox would be of no use, be- cause if the boys had made up their mind to prosecute him, they would do it some time or other, even if they had to wait. s Gaining Mr. Simcox’s protection would only be putting off the evil day. : In the playground the boys were seldom watched by an usher. é It was when they walked out, roamed on the beach, and played cricket or hockey in the field that a master accompanied them. Consequently when the boys came out of school, the coast was clear. Fowler went up to Armond. Touching him on the shoulder he said: ‘© All the fellows in the school are dissatisfied with you, and they have asked me to be their spokesman.” “What have they. got.to. grumble at?” asked Armond, attempting a smile. : “A great deal, I think. You have behaved much worse than ever Lightheart did, and you are let off with an, apology.” $ ; “T have nothing to do with Lightheart,” Armond. said, some of his old hatred peeping out in his face. : Seet ‘*As I have introduced his name,” continued Fowler, ‘‘I will say he is a trump, compared with you.” : : ““Why don’t you go and kiss him, if you're so fond of him ?” Armond said, with a sneer. ‘** Don’t be cheeky,” Fowler exclaimed. ‘‘I was only going to observe that Lightheart has “No. You're to be made to runthe gaunt-| never, since he’s been at this school, behaved let!” “Run the gauntlet?” repeated Armond, with a puzzled air. ‘‘ What sort of amusement may that be?” “Tt’s not an amusement. ment,” ; “T never heard of it. What is it?” q “You won’t find it pleasant,” replied Smith. “The fellows say, that as Simcox shows such favoritism to you, they must take the law into their own hands.” ° ‘But what is it, you young ass?” asked Ar- mond, in an irritable tone. “Tl tell you as wellas Ican. Fowler was explaining it to Lightheart and some other fellows, and I stood by and listened.” “Go on.” ‘ “The boys divide themselves into two rows, stretching along the play ground, and form a sort of lane. “ Yes,” said Armond, much interested. ‘<Brabazon is to take you by the scurf of the neck, and’ kick you into the lane, down which you are to run as hard as you can.” “«T don’t see much in that.” | * ‘Ah ! but the worst is tocome. That’s only the beginning of it,” answered Smith. “What else is there?” “Each fellow, on either side, holds some- thing in his hand, a bat, a stump, or hoekey- stick, or an old boot, and as ap8 go along, you get hit by everyone, and punched and kicked and hissed at.” : It’s a punish- | disgrace, ses arnt rs in an ungentlemanly manner.” ““Ungentlemanly |!” repeated Armond. — ‘Yes; perhaps you don’t understand ths term ?”’ replied Fowler, with cutting sarcasm. or ae { do. Why shouldn’t I, as well as you 9? : r A few boys had collected round them, seeing there was an animated discussion going on, and Messiter, quite by accident, of course, hap- pened to exclaim: ‘“Tripe and onions.” “What's that you say?” cried Armond, \ turning round fiercely. : ‘We're going to present Lightheart with a testimonial, and when the thingy-my-jig is given to him, we shall have a tripe supper, that’s all; _ Tripe and onions, Cocky; you know what — tripe is, don’t-you ?’ 4 Ges “I’m talking to Fowler, not to you,” said Armond, as he heard a titter go round the circle that had formed close tothem. = “Talk away, we don’t want to listen,” an. — swered. Messiter. ; eae: At this there was alaugh, e anything against the rules. : ( ‘*Who said you did?” exclaimed Armond, who began to feel very uncomfortable. — ‘Armond had been a:great man, owing | favoritism of the masters and Lighti Pil oh
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N~ one, except Smith, had really liked him. | ‘‘I don't know. Never having tried it, can’t | the boysin two rows, saw All the boys were glad of having what Mes- | say. iter called ‘* the chance of a pitch in” at him, The crowd around Armond and Fowler grew denser. : ‘Tm telling him,” said Fowler, ‘that we ‘think he has treated Lightheart very badly, and if the goyernw won't do what he ought, we shall have to d ci4 for him in our own pe- guliar way.” “TI should think,’ said Armond, trying to make a stand, ‘‘that Mr. Simcox was a better judge of how he ought to conduct his school » than any of you.” “T don’t know that,” said Fowler. DICK LIGHTHEARTS TRIALS, ” ‘‘Are you really in earnest, Fowler ?”. asked Armond. to think better of it?” “No,” replied Fowler sternly. ‘‘We owe a duty to ourselves, and if Mr. Simcox will not do justice, we must. Get ready.” Armond, who was a coward at heart, fell on his knees before the boys. Fowler and Brabazon ~egarded him with con- tempt. He put his hands together in an attitude of supplication. **Oh, do take pity on me,” he cried, in abject “The governor's had too much tripe,” said | terror. Messiter. “Hold your row,”’ cried Fowler, pulling his ear till he howled. —‘‘ Get out.” He gave him a push, and he fell against Brabazon, who gave him another shove, saying : ** No child of mine,” _ The next fellow he fell against pushed him out of the circle, and Fowler said : ‘* Now we have got rid of that interruption, we will go on with business. I’m not a good hand at talking, and I’ll come to the point.” ““Thank you,” replied Armond, with another of his quiet sneers. ** You've got to run the gauntlet,” continued Fowler. ‘‘ That is the decision of the whole school.” ** How do you like that news, Cocky?” cried Messiter from the middle of the play ground. He had got on the wooden horse which stood there for fellows to practice jumping on. This gave him an elevated position, from which he could hear and see well. *« f knew this in the morning,” said Armond. ‘* How ?” asked Fowler. ** Never mind how; I knew it.” “‘Smiff. Smiffagain !” cried the irrepressible Messiter. © “Just go and hit that Messiter on the head with a brick, some of you fellows,” exclaimed Brabazon. ‘‘ He won't be quiet.” “Yes, I will, Brabazon,” cried Messiter, in alarm. ‘‘ Don’t shy bricky. T’ll close.” There was a brief silence. “T might have gone to Mr. Simcox and glaimed his protection,” cried Armond; ‘‘ but I did not. I merely tell you this to show you that I wish to stand well with you ; and I think that as the masters are satisfied with my apology to Lightheart, for what, after all, was only an error of judgment, and done hastily, you might let me off.” A chorus of ‘No, no, no!” arose on all sides, ‘* We can’t do that,” replied Fowler. ““ Why not?” **You must be made an example of, if you are to continue in this school. We mean to knock some of your dirty behavior outof you, and,so you will have to run the gauntlet.” ‘TI don’t deserve it, really, Fowler,” cried Armond. - ‘His terror increased as the punishment seemed growing nearer. ‘* Of course he don’t. He’s as innocent as a baby,” replied Messiter. ‘‘ Call him St. Armond the martyr.” 2 ; Dick laid hold of Messiter’s leg. -** What's the row now ?” asked the latter. “Don’t you crow over him. He's in good hands with Fowler and Brabazon,” said Dick. _Fowler turned his attention again to the bent after the temporary laugh Messiter’s cited had subsided. ee now what you've got to expect,” be? “and we're goin, _ Get ready. You ‘e.” . can take your coat off if yo meres weed hurt more, ‘w: ‘*What pity had you on Tightheart, when ou cut the rope and tried to maim or kill him ?” said Fowler. Armond groaned. “What pity,” said Brabazon, ‘‘ have you had on Lightheart, while he has been under suspi- cion of haying done a dirty trick ?” The wretched boy could make no answer. Again Fowler's voice was heard saying, ‘‘ Get ready.” Armon? remained on his knees, and tears were in his eyes. His tormentors were as hard as iron and as deaf as fate. CHAPTER XX. A BOY’s PUNISHMENT, BraBazon and Fowler stood over Armond like two jailers, watching him narrowly lest he should escape. The boys, under Messiter’s directions, armed themselves with whatever was handiest. » Somhe ped a stump, a single stick, or a bat, while others held a boot, a hockey-stick, a gutta-percha whip, and a bough torn down from the sycamore-tree in the playground. They formed themselves into two rows, ex- tending all the length of the playground. Only one boy in the school was absent, that was Armond’s young brother. He had tried to sneak away, but Messiter saw him and brought him back. Messiter shut him up in the lavatory and locked the door. Smith, although he professed a great liking for Armond, and was his inseparable compan- ion, joined one of the rows. The fact was, he was afraid of being tteated in a similar manner if he showed any signs of friendship. Smith was just.the fellow to fall away from a friend in the hourof misfortune; a sneak can never be relied on. Strange Albert took his place with the rest. His pet bird, Jock, was getting much better, buthe had not forgotten the cruel way in which Armond had shot at him. The wing was nearly healed, and Jock fley about a little again. Albert had laid hold of a brick,in the ab- sence of any thing better. Dick saw this, and exclaimed : ‘*What have you got?” ‘*A brick,” replied Strange Albert. “« What for?” nae shy at that big beast who shot at my bird.” : “But you musn’t do that—bricks are not fair,” said Dick. ‘Dosn’t he deserve it? A fellow who ill-treats dumb animals must be a coward, because the poor creatures can’t talk and take their own “* Get something else,” said Dick, who had some generosity left to extend toward his fal- len enemy. — “T can’t now,” replied Albert, ‘everything has been taken, even to an old boot.” * “Shin or punch him, then, but ‘drop that: ric! : ; ne Albert did so, though rather against his will. ‘Suddenly, Messiter, who had been arranging. ~ iP Cg ieee, oT a | ¥ ah sy i
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18 DICK LIGHTHEARTS TRIALS. a heack, he gaye himself up to melancholy re- ion. The shouts of the boys still rang in his ears. A few minutes passed, and he found that he was not alone. Some one had followed him into the school- room. It was Dick. ‘Hullo, old man!” exclaimed’ Dick, ‘feel better, eh ?” ‘Your presence is not likely to do me much good,” rejoined Armond, with a vindictive ce. **T’ve come to say that I am sorry you had to g° through the gauntlet, but the fellows would ve it.” You sorry?” exclaimed Armond. ‘Not u. Why, you got it up for me.” **T swear I didn’t,” replied Dick. *T daresay. You hit and kicked as hard as any of them,” said Armond savagely. ‘‘Tndeed I did not touch you.” **80 you say.” ‘*You might have seen me.” ‘How could I see you?” said Armond rub- ‘bing his back. ‘‘I shut my eyes and ran as a I could. ButTlihave my revenge for S. “Can I do anything for you ?” asked Dick, | “No, you can’t,” said Armond, adding, ‘‘ yes, -, youcan, You can get out of my sight, for I’d as soon be with a-snake as you.” ‘All right. You’re like the toad under a harrow. ood-bye,” said Dick. He went away and joined the other boys in the pla; und, irciylicdy was talking about the way in which Armond had run the gauntlet. ' : Each boy declared that he had hit him on the - legs; the arm, or the back ~ _ The general opinion was, that the honor of thie school had been cleared. . An act of justice had been done. __- Strange Albert was particularly pleased. = He had his bird upon his arm, and the mag- __ pie chattered away as if he had got quite well. “Didn’t we give it him?” said Albert to Dick. 5 _ ‘Rather more than he deserved, I think,” answered Dick. . . “Not a ha’porth,” exclaimed Messiter, who 6 up. Me - He raised his foot ashe spoke.
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? “Tt’s some plant you've got on,’ Sam, still suspicious. “Til swear it ain’t. The bird has copped my shilling. I’m hard up, and I want it. Get up . the stairs, and crawl through the trap-door, and you're sure to find it.” “ Think so ?” **T don’t think, I’m sure of it: the beggar’s got a cave or nest, or a something up there.” Sam still hesitated... ~ Dick had such a reputation, for prac tical Joking that everybody distrusted him, a certainly thought he was going to be sold. : He expected that when he showed himself on on the roof, a shower of stones would salute him. Angry at his reluctance to do as he was told, Ditk gave him a gentle kick behind. “You've no call to kick a cove, Mister Light- heart,” he said, applying his hand to the in- jured part. replied ‘* Tt was only by way of reminder,” said Dick, | laughing. ** Reminder of what, six?” “Of what youv’e got to expect. you.” ‘ Fearing another assault, Sam Fuggles de- clared he would go to the top of the house, and look after the magpie who had so boldly stolen the shilling which Dick held in his hand when he was talking to Strange Albert. He had been on the roof once before, during a thunderstorm, when the gutters and pipes were choked up, and he had no difficulty in finding his way again. ‘Having reached the attics, he pushed open the trap-door, and got on the tiles. : Walking along a gutter, between two sloping parts of the roof, his progress was stopped b a, stack of chimneys. P Looking down, on hearing a strange noise, he saw the magpie, who appeared very angry at his intrusion. “Get out!” said Sam, clapping his hands, Jock flew away and perching a little distance off, seemed to watch his proceedings with much “interest. ‘ “Master Lightheart wasn’t joking with me after all. This here bird has a nest or some- “thing like it,” was Sam’s muttered remark. In an angle was a heap of small bits of paper, afew sticks, some stones, a tuft or two of grass, any number of buttons, bits of glass, and a vari- ety of things which the mischievons bird had picked up and carried off at different times. . It is well known that magpies will seize any- thing that attracts their eye, and having stolen it, hide it. \ - : On the top of the heap was Dick’s shilling, which Sam picked up. “Well, I never,” he said, ‘‘ this is a rummy go. If that bird was properly trained, and made use of, he’d be a fortune to his owner.” He was about to go away, when he thought he might as well turn the hiding-place over, in case there were any more pieces of money to be found. f ' Giving the heap a kick with his foot, he saw something sparkle in the sunlight. down, he pounced upon a diamond ring. ‘The stone, which was one of price, shot out ‘innumerable rays in all directions when exposed. to the light. ““T’ll take this to the missus,” said Sam. ‘‘It’s worth a dollar to find a thing like this, and it would be no good for me to keep it; besides, it’s being dishonest.” _ Dhere was nothing else of any consequence in the magpie’s nest, and he went down the ‘trap again. ___ On the staircase hé met Mrs. Simeox who, as _ the servants said, ‘was always poking about _ somewhere.” ‘What hare you a-doing of hup here?” she asked. ser ‘Please, mum,” said Sam, removing his cap, fe *one of the young gentlemen’s got a magpie.” _ ‘Hi ham haware hof hit,” said Mrs. Simcox. “This ’ere magpie, mum, goes and bones a shilliig out of one of the young gentlemen’s Lee pt et it, as the Of with hb “and I was asked to go and ob rd. was seen to fly to the top of bats eee Stooping | @ house.” | DICK LIGHTHEART’S TRIALS. ** Did you find it ?” «Yes, mum. . It's in my hand now, and I was coming to say that I had found something else,” ‘* What helse ?” asked Mrs. Simcox, who was becoming interested. He showed her the ring. **Hoh, my!’ she cried, ‘‘give it, ’ere: my ring.” ; Her eyes beamed with pleasure as she snatched the diamond ring from him, and eag-. erly examined it. There was no doubtit wns the ring she had accused Dick Lightheart of stealing. “Tt was in the magpie’s nest, mum,” said Sam, ‘and L?—— She did not wait to hear any, more, but ran down stairs to her husband, to whom she told what had happened. It’s **This is a very extraordinary thing,” ob- served the professor, ‘‘but I have heard of the thievish instincts of magpies.” _~ “‘ He stole the shilling, and no doubt he got in at my window and stole my ring,” said Mrs. Simcox. “T am glad it is found, and pleased to think that Lightheart is not guilty.” The professor touched the bell, and when the servant came, said : ‘Send Master Lightheart here.” In afew minutes Dick entered the room, wondering what new scrape he had got into. ‘‘T have good news for you,” said Mr, Sim- cox. “What about, sir?” ‘Mrs, Simcox has found. her lost ring.” Dick's face lighted up with genuine pleasure. ‘That is indeed good news, sir,” he said. “Will you tell me all about it, if you please?” “Certainly. It'will give me much pleastire to do.so.° There is a magpie’s nest on the roof of this house, and my servant Sam discovered the ring in it only a short time ago.” “That's jolly,” said Dick. ‘* Lightheart,” observed Mrs. Simceox, **hi’m very sorry for haccusing you. Will you come. to tea with me this afternoon ?” “Thank you, ma'am; I shall be delighted,” said Dick, before whose eyes floated visions of various jams and cakes. ‘«Run away,” said the professor, ‘‘and tell your companions this remarkable fact about the ring and the bird.” Away went Dick, and he was soon surrounded by an eager and admiring group. There was only one boy in the school who was not pleased at Dick’s innocence being thus publicly-established, That was Armond. As Dick was getting on, Armond was going down. The boys looked upon Armond with ill-con- concealed aversion. ‘ Dick they delighted to. honor. Brabazon and Fowler caught hold of him by by the arms, while Messiter seized his legs. Taking him off his feet, they carried him round the playground in triumph; and all the others ran after, cheering wildly. The hurrahs of the boys made. pleasant music in Dick's ears. He felt proud of his present position, and determined to work hard until the Christmas holidays, and see if he could obtain some prizes. f The remainder of the half glided yery quickly away, and the examination took place, To his delight Dick found himself first in mathematics and third in classics. He gained two handsome prizes, and was complimented by every one on his success. The holidays were very agreeable, for Henri- etta Stoner came to stay at the rectory. But holidays cannot last forever, and the boys went back to school again. sien _At Mr. Simcox’s there were only holidays twice a year—at Christmas and Midsummer. About this time the proprietors of several schools in Brighton began to take great inter-| est in the volunteermovement. => ’ A corps was formed, which was. it would be if we won the Queen’s Prize.” called the | my ‘Brighton Boys’ Corps, or the 101st Royal Sussex Volunteers.” Several of Mr. Simcox's boys joined it. Among the number were Dick, Messiter and Armond. Mr. Snarley was admitted as an honorary member, The three we haye mentioned shot so well after some practiee that it was resolved to send them up to the annual contest at Wimbledon. They were to fire for the Queen’s Prize and for other smaller contests. There was great excitement in the school as July approached. Dick was continually reminded that he had to uphold the honor 6f the Brighton Boys’ Volun- teers. He inwardly determined that he would do his best. / CHAPTER XXII. THE BRIGHTON BOYS IN CAMP, . “‘SnartEy’s going up with us to Wimble- don,” said Messiter, one evening, as the boys © were talking together in the school-room, just before supper. ‘ “Ts he?” replied Dick. ‘‘ He'll be sorry for $497 A * Te wy P* : i 2 “Because we'll have a game with him. L have been very quiet lately,and the governor sent me a sovereign this morning. Simcox had said in his report that Twas a good boy.” . ‘‘Hasn’t if been an effort to you?” asked Messiter, Hive : ‘‘Rather; but I had to retrieve my charac- ter. I went ahead a little too fast.” 3 ‘Tt will be awfully jolly up at Wimbledon,” continued Messiter, returning to the subject of the camp. ¢ “So I should think. How are they going to putusup? Shall we be in lodgings.” Messiter laughed. iY ‘‘Don’t you know,” he said, ‘‘ that all the fel- lows who are up in the camp, go under oan- vas ?” : a “No, I didn’t know it. I haven't been coaching up the subject as you evidently have. I like the idea, though, of a tent.” ¢ “You and I, Armond and Snarley,” said. Messiter, ‘‘ will have a tent all to ourselves.”) "«“T wish Armond wasn’t going. I can’t cot- ton to that fellow,” replied Dick. : ‘He has let you alone lately.” , ; ‘¢ Well, yes, I will say that for him, though I think a fear of having to run the gauntlet again has kept him still more than anything else.” 3 ‘Perhaps it has. He got it hot that time.” “I’m positive he hates me as much as ever, and is only watching his opportunity,” said Dick. ‘ Lae ‘*Our fellows ought to be proud of, us,” said. Messiter. ‘* We are the only ones selected to represent the corps at Wimbledon, what a lark _ “‘Not much chance of that,” said Dick. 3 ‘© Well, we might get the badge of the asso- ciation and some money.” eS sf “So we might. I’ve worked hard at the targets and can make a few bull’s-eyes.” _ “What a score you made last week,” remark. ed'Messiter ; eighteen out of a possible twent; and a strong wind blowing at the time.” a ** Armond made seventeen under the same circumstances a week before, and [ suppose that is why they put him in our team,” said ~ Dick. aby, “Of course. We three are the crack shots “TE we de of the corps.” ; “¢ Anyhow,” fc nibaps a oa et anything, it willbe e jolly spree, qui holiday, in tact, ‘and we shall have the a, badgering Snarley.” —__ WOT Sei aap. Mir. Snarley happened to be passing his slippers, and overheard this remark. — “ Lightheart,” he said, in solemn ton | “Sir,” replied Dick, turning red. “Scarcely a moment ago, L heard - name in vain, ‘his is wrong. <73ee
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** Please, sir, I didn’t mean”—— **Don’t prevaricate,”’ interrupted Mr. Snar- dey, ‘‘I heard you say you would have the fun of badgering Snarley—that’s me. Now I warn you that if you attempt to play any tricks upon me, I shall report you to headquarters, and have you dealt with ace ording to martial law.” ‘Who is he, sir?” asked Dick. **Martial law is—is, is, in fact, martial law,” replied Mr. Snarley, who was under some difti- culty to explain the phrase. ‘*T am still in the dark, sir.” “You will find out in time, when you are under arrest, with sentries guarding you. How- ever, be careful.” “Tt was only chaff, sir,” replied Dick,-in a tone of apology. ‘*Mind it becomes nothing else. I had hop- ed that we were going up to the camp in a feél- ing of good-fellowship.” **T though we were going in the train?” replied Dick. “Don’t make stupid jokes; they aro ill- timed -and uncalled for,” said Mr. Snarley, severely. “Beg pardon, sir.” ‘So you ought, Ishall be your superior officer, and you must obey my orders or take the consequences. Bear that well in mind.’ In fact, if I were to speak to Mr. Simcox now, I could stop your going at all.” ‘‘Don’t do that, sir,” said Dick in a fright. “(Pll behave like a lamb, I will, indeed.” “T hope so,” replied Mr. Snarley. Messiter turned to Dick and said: “That was a squeak.” ‘A narrow shave; I thought he meant to ut the crab on,” answered Dick. ‘* What a other it is for the masters to go sneaking about in their slippers; you never know who is near you and who is not.” ‘They are getting stricter,” said “Messiter, *‘hecause Armond is afraid to sneak as much as he used to.” In afew days after this conversation the boys in uniform, which was a light gray picked put with red, started, rifles in hand, for Wim- bdledon. They travelled quickly to Clapham Junction, on the Brighton and South Coast line, and then they had to change, to get to the Southwestern. ‘‘Lightheart,” said Mr. Snarley, just inquire «of——of the porters where we are to go to for Wimbledon.” ; He was confused by the appearance of the Jong, dark, tunnel-like passage at the junction, and the numerous staircasesall along it. Dick meta porter and accosted him. “Wimbledon, sir,” replied the porter. ** Southwestern main line down, No. 6 up the eps.” cram fog Snarley,” thought Dick. He returned to his party, each of whom car- tied his rifle and carpet-bag. : “ Well,” ejaculated Snarley. “T's No. 1, sir,” replied Dick; ‘right at du the end, I think.” , Bless me! what a labyrinth this is. Come along, Armond. You and Messiter can follow us.” é ‘y- ‘They started at a trot, and Messiter was about to follow at the same pace. “Don’t hurry, Harry,” said Dick. Why not?” inquired Messiter. : es nie mene. _ They soon reached No. 6 steps, and Dick led essiter be _ | the’guardsman, ; i DICK LIGHTHEART'S TRIALS. — SS eeeF ‘What for ?” “To get rid of Snarley and Armond. Messiter grinned. ‘*You’re making a beginning early,” he ob- served. **T told him I would badger him, and I al- ways keep my word.” - Just as they reached the platform a train came in, and the porter cried out: “Wimbledon, Malden, Surbiton, and Hamp- ton Court train.” ‘Jump in, Harry,” said Dick. In about a minute they had taken their places in a first-class carriage, and were rolling along to Wimbledon Station. They traveled very comfortably to Wimble- don, and when they reached the station, the question was would they ride or walk to the camp. ‘*Here y’ar, sir. Here y’ar,” cried the fly- drivers. ‘‘Ride tothe camp, sir? Gentlemen, sir. Here y’ar.” **How much is it ?” asked Dick. *‘Take you for a shilling a head, sir.” ‘* What do you say, Harry?” asked Dick again to his companion; ‘‘only a bob a nut. Are you on?” ‘*Here’s a cove with a buss taking fellows for sixpence,” replied Messiter. ‘* Never mind that; let’s do the cheese and have a fly. Step in. What's the odds so long as you're happy ?—as they say in the song.” They jumped in and were soon driven to the camp. This was pitched on the common, and en- tirely surrounded with a high wooden paling to keep out intruders. Being ‘in‘uniform, they passed in without paying. It was about four in the afternoon of Satur- day, and volunteers were arriving rapidly from all parts. No firing had as yet taken place, because the business of the meeting did not commence until-the following Monday. The camp presented a fairy-like scene with its hundreds of tents stretching away in all di- rections. Volunteers in all sorts of uniform stalked about, inspecting everything at their leisure. ‘Stand a drink, Harry,” said Dick, espying the large refreshment pavilion on the left. ‘All right,” replied Messiter. ‘‘What’s it going to be—lemonade or ginger-beer ?” ‘Pop for me, well iced.” ‘Same'here. I'll do ditto,” answered Mes- siter. : They went up to the counter and had some ““T feel better,” exclaimed Dick. ‘‘ That suited my complaint exactly. Now let’s go and look for our tent.” A soldier came by who was one of the de- tachment of the Guards sent down on fatigue very refreshing ginger-beer. ty. Oh Mister Lobster,” cried Dick, with his usual impudence, “Well?” replied the soldier, with a half smile, ‘“Why don’t you salute, sir, when you are speaking to an officer?” continued Dick. ‘* Are you an officer?” asked the soldier, ‘Of course Iam ; full ensign, holding her majesty’s commission.” ‘«Tt’s against orders for the line to salute the yolunteers; but if it wonld do you any good, I don’t mind,” said the guardsman. Tl let you off this time, though I believe Icould get you the saék for your cheek,” ‘re- plied Dick, adding. ‘Now, attention !” Mr. Slocum could not have utteredthe words in class with more dignity. “Where's niy tent?” continued Dick. “How should’ I know?” answered the sol- dier. ‘‘ Go to headquarters and find it.” “*Thank you for nothing,” said Dick ; ‘you're a very civil and obliging sort of lob- ster, and when I get home, Tl think of you.” “Your mother ought to have known better than to dress upa monkey in uniform,” - said ‘** As I said before, you're very obliging, and a credit to the service,” retorted Dick. “‘*The would not like to part with you, I should think, Where did you say they picked you up and gave you the shilling when you were drunk and starving ?” The soldier began to lose his temper. ‘Young jackanapes, drop it,” he cried. : “Whitechapel, did you say? You must speak louder ; I’m rather deaf.” “If [had you outside, I'd Whitechapel you,” exclaimed the soldier. 4 ** But you haven't got me, old son, and you are a fool to yourself, for you might have got a bob, if you’d been civil and showed me where to obtain information abont my tent.” ‘It’s a pity such things as you are allowed to have a rifle and put on that dress,” replied the soldier. “Oh, is it? Now, look’ here, Isee one of your officers over there, and if you don’t apol- ogize, I will report you.” The man sullenly walked away. Dick ran quickly to the gentleman, who, from his uniform, he guessed to be an officer of the Guards. ““T-wantto complain of that man, if you please,” he said, half out of breath. Which one, my little fellow?” asked the officer. “The one over there,” The officer called to the man, who reluctant- ly approached, and after saluting, stood still. ‘“What has he done ?” inquired the officer. - “‘He’s been extremely insolenttome. Ibe- - long to the Brighton Volunteers, and have just come to takefup my residencein camp, Tasked him to tell me where my friend and I could obtain information about our tent, and he put himself out of the way to be rude to me.” “Your name, if you please ?”’ continued the officer. “Dick Lightheart, 101st Sussex Volunteers.” The officer beckoned to a sergeant who was standing outside the orderly officer's tent, and when he came up, he said; ‘*You will take a file of men and place this man under arrest.” The sergeant saluted. : ‘‘Ask for Oaptain Campbell at the Cold- stream Guards’ quarters on Monday morning, young gentleman, and your complaint shall be gone into,” contiuued the officer. ose Dick thanked the officer and went away with Messiter. The soldier attempted to Fan Aciasrpen in his | eee but Captain Campbell would not hear m. ‘““You did that well,” said Messiter. ““The cheeky fellow. He got my temper up when he called me a monkey in uniform,” re- plied Dick. : ‘* Shall you appear against him on Monday 2” “No, he'll be under arrest all Sunday, and that will be enough for him.” They had not gone far before a corporal , ‘came after them. * “Beg your pardon, sir,” he said, respectful- ly, ‘‘but Captain Campbell has sent me after you to show you where to go about your tent.” ‘* Much obaed, I'm sure,” answered Dick. The corporal conducted the boys to a large tent, where the authorities informed him that the Sussex Volunteers were encamped in a par- ticular part of the South Camp. i Thither they went, and were assigned a tent, in which they soon made themselves at home. ‘* Wonder where Snarley is ?” exclaimed Mes- siter. ; ‘ : ‘*Come to grief, I hope,” answered Dick, __ grinning. ; But Mr. Snarley’s adventures with Armond deserve a chapter to themselves, ~ 7 CHAPTER MR. SNARLEY COMES TO GRIEF, Foxxx believing what Lightheart had told them, Mr. Snarley and Armond ran up-No. 1 steps. we: Ea Ds See Barnes “It happened that a Kensington train was jns starting, ie
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DICK LIGHTHEART'S TRIALS. They got-into the carriage, the: guard slam- He was.speechless with rage and indignation. med the. door, blew his whistle and the train; So was Armond, moved, ‘‘ Where are those boys?” inquired~ Mr. Snarley, anxiously. “Perhaps got into another carriage,” sug- gested Armond. “Te is likely ; but. I should like. to: make sure. Mr. Snarley put his head out of the window, and cried : hi!” ** Train’s started, sir,” replied the guard. **Tet me out. I miss some young friends of mine.” ** Too late, sir.” The train rolled rapidly out of the station, and Snarley sank back into his seat; **T suppose Lightheart and Messiter are in another carriage,” he said. _‘* Let us hope so.” He drew a small pocket flask from his coat ze Very good bran: ‘Very pale dy. Have a drop?” he said. ‘«Thank you,” replied Armond. When the flask was) handed back, Mr. Snarley drank again. ; “Traveling is so fatiguing. Must keep one’s spirits up,” he remarked. “‘ Have we many stations to call at before . ‘we reach Wimbledon?” asked Armond. : “T don’t know. Keep a good lookout. The neighborhood is new to me.” Armond did so, and the first station they called at was Battersea. **’Sea, ’sea,” cried the porter. *¢ What do they say ?” asked Snarley. ' “Blest if J know. Can’t make out,” re- plied Armond. Presently they Dad don at Chelsea. ‘Sea, 'sea,” cried the porter once more, **Sea again,” said Snarley. ‘‘It’s all sea, We've just come from: Brighton, which is on $he sea, and we can’t have got’ back, can we?” ‘* Tt isn’t likely,” replied Armond. The next stoppage was at Kensington, and here the guard told them all to get out. *¢ All change here,” he said; ‘‘ all change.” Mr. Snarley and Armond got out, and looked anxiously round for Lightheart and Messiter, who were nowhere to be seen. **Is this Wimbledon?” said Snarley to the guard, ¢ Ave you-the Prince of Wales?” replied the e.g coatemptuously. ; * “TI don’t want any inipertinence from you, mind that.” _ “You get into a Kensington train and think you are going to Wimbledon. ‘That’s a flat’s game,” said'the | “Ig it? Who's the stationmaster?. I'll complain of you, you scoundrel,” cried Snarley. “You're drunk, that’s my belief,” the guard observed. ‘‘L saw you a-sucking at a bottle.” ‘“ Villain | conduct me to the stationmas- ter. Find him out. Now then, go along and _ give up your ticket.” A porter approached and held out his hand _ for his ticket. E “We are volunteers in uniform ; at least ’m notin uniform, but my friend here is, though © Ym a member of the corps, and I was told we required no tickets.” . _ SPiddlesticks,” said the guard, ‘‘ you're try- ing this on.” . Snarley Run him in,” said the guard; ‘he’s : hae er seized him by the arm, and ; round’ in a way which is called by e ‘putting the screw on,” dragged — There now!” . Going up to the porter,-the latter hit him one of his awkward blows under the ear, The porter staggered, and let go his hold. ‘That's right, Armond: Give it them ?” cried Mr. Snarley. ‘« Where is that rascally guatd?” ‘‘T’m here,” replied the guard, “‘ and it will be the worse for you if you;don’t go quietly.” “Go, Go where?” «To the. police station. You'll have a lodg- ing till Monday.” “Shall I, villain? Take that, and that,” ex- claimed Snarley, striking at him, but taking very good care not.to go too near him. The guard now foolishly lost his temper, and succeeded in striking Mr. Snarley on the face. ‘Oh! my nose. It's smashed,” cried the usher, wrapping it ina. pocket handkerchief, which was speedily stained crimson.’ — The porter.was preparing to tackle Armond, when the stationmaster came up with a police- man. ‘What's all this about?” he inquired. ‘“‘These yolunteer gents have heen gett- ing drunk and knocking the company’s ser- yants about, sir,” answered the ‘Tt’s an odious falsehood,” exclaimed Mr. Snarley. ‘‘Look at my nose. He hasn't gota scratch,” *‘Lock them up for an assault,” said the stationmaster. ‘Do what ?” said Snarley, aghast. **Tt's a charge, and you must come along of me,” observed the policeman. He grasped Mr. Snarley by the collar with one hand, and Armond with the other. They did not like to resist the police. ‘‘This is an infamous conspiracy. We are going to Wimbledon for the !shooting. i guard took us wrong, and was very insolent,” said Mr. Snarley, trying to explain. The constable dragged them away. “Can you pay for a cab?” whispered Ar- mond. ‘Of course I can,” replied Snarley. A cab was procured. The stationmaster and the porter followed to the station-house, but the guard could not do so, as he had to go back with his train. When they entered the police-station, the superintendent on duty heard the charge, which was made. - The prisoners gaye their names as Samuel Snarley and Christopher Armond, and their address at the Camp, Wimbledon. They were then asked what they had to say in their defense. Both Snarley and Armond poured out the story of their grievances. After listening attentively, the superintend- ent said, **T cannot take this charge. The defendants should have been asked for their cards. You, constable, have exceeded your duty. Itisa case for a summons, if there is any charge at all.” ‘© Of course,” said Snarley,’ growing bold again. ‘‘I shall bring an action against the company for this infringement of the liberty of the subject.” - : : “You can do that, sir.” “T know it. If not, why did our ancestors struggle for Magna Charta, and the bill of rights? Answer me that.” ; 2 He looked round him defiantly. The stationmaster and the porter slunk away rather crestfallen, and wishing they bad not given them in charge. Thanking the superintendent, the released prisoners left the office, ‘‘ We are well out of that,” remarked Armond. “Tl go to Jaw with them. Never was I treated so i ously,” answered Snarley.. “ How shall we get to Wimbledon ?” asked Armond, c y _ “ZT shan’t attempt it to-night. Chance has brought us to London. We will hire beds at some hotel, and go to thé theater?” “‘Very well, sir,” replied Armond. “I’m agreeable, and to-morrow we can reach the camp in time for church parade.” They went off arm in arm, hailed a pa hansom cab, and were driven to the West End. “Tonight we will be swells,” observed Mr. Snarley, complacently, ‘‘though. I hope my nose has not begun to swell.” The injured organ felt uncomfortable, ang did not look, very pretty. This, however, was of trifling inyportance. CHAPTER XXIV. A SLIGHT MISTAKE; Licurneart and Messiter, finding their traveling companions did not arrive, turnedinte their camp bedsteads at the appointed time for putting out the lights, and slépt soundly till the. bugle woke them at six in the morning. ‘* What's that ?” asked Messiter, as he sat up, rubbing his eyes “Somebody blowing a trumpet. Perhaps he’s fond of music,” replied Dick, yawning. “*T wish he’d keep his beastly row to himself, or go and do itin Richmond Park.” ; ““ We're not obliged to turn out,” replied Dick, ** Ain’t we ?” ; * Certainly not; I shall roll over and go te by-bye again.” ‘*So shall I,” replied Messiter; ‘I always like a snooze on Sunday morning.” : In an hour or two they woke up again; an® began to think of breakfast. They had brought no camp cooking utensils with them, and were dependent upon the re- freshment rooms they had seen on their arrival, near the principal entrance to the camp. Here their wants were quickly and cheaply supplied. “T’ve had a tightener,” said Dick, puttiug away his last egg. : «The blow out's cheap at the price,” remark ed Messiter. «* Wonder how they do it?” ‘*¢ Oh, it’s the number that pays. Come and: take a stroll.” . ‘¢ Likea bird,” replied Dick. . They wandered: about the camp; looking at everything that came before them, »and: en- joying the movelty of the’ syectacle very much, At about half-past ten they were standing in front of a spacious tent ot an oblong shape, the flap. of which was raised, revealing the handsome and most. luxurious furniture within. A carpet had been laid down upon boards ;, easy-chairs were placed here and there, while some wine bottles and a cigar-box stood upon a side-table. “These are nice quarters, Dick,” observed Messiter. z “I believe you, my pigeon,” replied Dick, who was looking gly into the tent. é Outside, in front of the tent, small flower- beds had been tastfully marked out with red tiles ; the beds were filled with a preparation of ime ten, in mules flowers and shrubs in po een tastily arranged, “The individual who~lives here must be a swell,” said Dick. ; “Rather, I didn’t think there was such — diggins in champ,” answered Messiter. : eeinga man who looked like a servant go- ing by, Dick exclaimed: “Can you tell me whose tent this is?” “Captain Slaughter’s, sir; First Plymouth Invineibles,” replied the man, «I should like to go inside.” » ae ** You had better not let him catch you at it, Last year he avery killed g city gent, ‘he did, ~ fon valine in without permission; oh, he’s awful, is the captain, when he’s put ou Tra a ae ** Amiable ogre, I should call him,” remarked Messiter, ‘3
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DICK LIGHTHEARTS TRIALB, Scissors would be nothing to icin Gadd bs dette we” waged sewing Te laughed Messiter. He turned round as he spoke, and added: * Talk of the old gentleman, and he’s sure to appear.’ “Who?” asked Dick. » “Why, Snarley himself.” ' So itis. Hurrah! I'll be down upon Peni like a beaver; hold hard, don’é laugh and spoil ~ the sport.” Mr. Snarley approached by himself, looking very pale, as if from the effects of a recent dis- sipation. Indeed he did not walk very straight, and had an inclination to roll a little. ‘Morning, sir; how do you find yourself?” inquired Dick. ** But so’so, Lightheart,” answered Mr, Snar- doy, with a sickly smile. ‘“Where is Armond ?” «**He has gone to headquarters to make in- qutries for you, and I said I would take a ;turn round this portion of the camp and meet him in a quarter ofan hour.” throwing himself into an easy-chair, puffed away in all the delight of indolence, He even went so far as to put his feet up against a richly-caryed mahogany table. Scarcely. had he settled down to enjoy him- self, sipping his brandy and water and looking out upon the common, where the targets were placed, than a shadow darkened the entrance of the tent. Snarley did not get up. He had been drinking more than he had been accustomed to, and he felt uncommonly lazy. “Tt’s Captain Slasher, of whom Lightheart spoke, I perceive,” he muttered. “He said I was to treat him in a free and easy manner—all the better.” It was the captain, and if Mr. Snarley had seen the expression of his face, he would not have sat so comfortably in his arm-chair. Nor haye puffed away so placidly at the choice segar. or have sipped the brandy and water with such contentment. But Snarley did not remark the dark eye “What have you been doing to your nose, | flash, nor the short mustache bristle, nor the sir?” asked Dick. thin lips quiver, nor the heavy frown settle on ““My nose—ah, yes, my nose,” replied Snar- | the brow. ley, who had arranged with Armond that ned All these things were lost upon him. ing should be said about the squabble at Ken-| He simply said, with a half imbecile smile: sington. ‘‘T am not aware that there is any-| ‘‘ Morning, Slasher ; a nice day.” thing peculiar about the appearance ofmy nose.”| A sound like the snort of a frightened horse ““Tt’s as big as two, sir. broke from the captain. ** Possibly ; now you come to remind me of| ‘‘He’s got a cold,” thought Snarley; I ‘wish’ it, I remember that I ran against something he’d blow his nose—don’t like people to go last night. How did we miss you ” snorting about.” “The porter misdirected us, sir,” said Dick,| Then he waited for him to speak. and we found out our mistake in time, while you didn’t. I suppose you slept in town or found yourselves miles in the country.” ‘‘We were taken out of our way a little, but we spent a pleasant evening. Our separation was your loss, Lightheart,” replied Snarley. Dick thought they were not getting the truth ‘or anything near it, out of the usher, nor were OYAPTER XXV. THE DIRTY KICK OUT. ‘*Sworter wouldn’t be a bad name for him.” cried Mr, Snarley, carrying out his reflections. *‘Lightheart said he was a jolly fellow. If so he w ill like chaff. I shall call him Snorter for fun.” At length the captain spoke. ‘* Whoare you, sir ?”’ he inquired. sc Name of Snarley, from Brighton, 101st Sussex,” answered Snarley. «What are you doing in my tent?” ‘Your tent! Come that’s a good joke; it’s as much mine as your’s,” said Snarley. ‘* And these segars, this brandy and water, they ere yours, too, I suppose?” said the cap- tain, with mild sarcasm. “Of course. Share and share alike when we're out camping. Don’t get nasty, Snorter.” ‘“What do you mean by it?” said the cap- tain, growing still more angry. **Come, old fellow, sit down and make your miserable -life happy,” continued Snarley. ‘*Tfit wasn’t Sunday, I’d give you’ a game at crib ; best two out uF three fora tanner, as’ my boys say.” “Will you get itt of my tent, sir?” thun- dered the captain. “No! certainly not; haven't the slightest intention of turning out of these comfortable quarters, You can go if you're in a bad temper.” ‘Hang me if I can understand it,” cried the captain. ‘‘ Here isa strange man who comes into my tent, drinks my brandy and smokes my, cigars, and then telis me, like a cool fish as he is, to clear out if I don’t like it.” “Have a weed?” asked Snarley, oer himself to another. \ The captain could bear it no longer. Making a dash at Snarley, he seized him by the arm, dragged him out of the chair, and kicked him toward the door. “Out with you!” he exclaimed at every Eick. ‘* Be’off.” * Mr. Snarley turned round witha half-nngry: and supplicating look.’ — : “I say,” he said, ‘‘this won’t do. It isn’t friendly. low. It’s carrying the joke cet little too far.” “Joke be ae ae Coe He did not intend that they should know the adventures of the night, about which he would be made fun of behind his back, when they all returned to Harrow House School. “Where is our tent ?” inquired Mr. Snarley. ‘That's it, sir,” answered Dick, pointing to Captain Slaughter’ 8. “Ta—deed! quite a sumptuous affair. You thhave segars and wine, I perceive, on a side ta- ble,” said Snarley lost in admiration. “Those belong to a fellow who comes from Brighton, who pigs in with us.” ‘His name is” began Snarley. © ‘Captain Slasher,” replied Dick. ‘* He’s a ar good fellow. Really a rattling good sort. him Slasher, and slap him on the back, _ that’s what he likes.” «© “Ts it, indeed 2” * Yes, sir. He’s got any amount of money, and has come down here more for a spree than an, / “Twill go in and rest my weary limbs,” plied Mr. Snarley. _ **Do, sir. No one will interfere with you.” “A elas of brandy and water will pick me re- “Feel -moppy, sir?” asked Dick. ” “Not in the least. It’s only the heat. Run you two as far as the printing tent; it is out- side there that in a short time you will find Ar- mond. Bring him back with you.” _ Dick and Messiter promised compliance, but sf shey did not go far. Choosing a position where they could see the usher without being seen by him, they stood ; speedy still, anxiously wailing for what should é They were burning with curiosity. If Captain Slaughter would only return sud- de jenly, and find Snarley enjoying himself in his tent Le thought they could die happy the w Sey enter the tent and poe out | d water. ed a choice - Havana sega, Leni marked, looking hurt. moral leprosy, and I don’t like it.” — Dick, carelessly. ‘che never loses a chance of insulting and gall ‘ing me.” things bteate if he chooses,” replied Snarley. for,” growled Armond. - nothing sneaking about him.” about me. hastened to sity ; “you know fee 1 ‘rege since you h proved of great use to me.” Drop it, Snorter, there's a good fel-| pipe in silence; while the usher for, ae rk Seeiny he was in earnest, Mr, Snarley took to his heels and ran, followed by the captain, who gave him a parting kick, which raised him high in the air, and caused him to fall on his hands and knees, some distance from the tent. Dick and Messiter had been enjoying the . scene from their hiding-place, and when the fun was over, they ran to the printing tent where they found Armond, In a short time they were joined by Mx Snarley, who going furiously up to Dick, gave him a box on the ear. “You young scamp!” he cried, red with assion. ‘*Whatd you mean by sending me into the wrong tent?—from which I was shame- fully expelled.” Getting out of reach of his arm, Dick an-. swered : 5 “*Tt was only a joke, sir.” : ‘*Deuce take you and your jokes,” said Snar- ley, putting his hands behind him, “I was nearly killed by a savage wretch, who hasn’é se much civility about him as an Trisn bogtwot-. er. ” “If you will go into other people’s tents, sir,” said Dick, ‘‘you must expect to get the dirty kick out. ‘Very well. I shall mark you for this,” Snarley replied, vindictively. “Say no more about it, sir, and I will show you the real tent. I’m very sorry you got toed,” Dick remarked, looking very contrite. “You young crocodile, [—but no matter, my time will come. Lead on. Give me your support, Armond; Im that sore, I could sit down upon the greensward and weep, and yet, on consideration, I’d rather shed tears stand-— ing; it would bea more easy position. How hard that captain fellow did kick, to be sure. He must have nails in his boots, the black» guard.” ' *There’s the indignity of it, sir,” said Ar- mond, as he linked his arm in his. “That I could put up with. It’s the bodily discomfort I complain of.” ‘*You must be on your guard against Light- - He has heart,” continued Armond. “Yes, This is trick number two. not lost much time,” Snarley answered, with a grim chuckle. When they reached the tent, Mr, Snarley was disgusted at the plainness and simplicity of everything, which presented such a:contrast to the luxurious fitting of Captain Slaughter’s. Throwing himself on a bed with a groan, he 3 advised the boys to go to the church and leave him to rest his aching bones, Dick and Messiter got up to go. ‘* Will you have me?” asked Armond. —_- “‘Thank you, all the same; we'd rather, go by giaselven? answered Dick.. “‘T shan’t contaminate you,” Armond. re “T don’t know. There is such a ‘hing a “Do you call mea moral leper?” : “‘Tf the cap fits you oan wear it,” eo Armond sat down near Mr. "Cantley , “How I do hate that Lightheart,” he ais ** He’s a trying boy, and yet there. are som e; about him I like. He can be good and ““T don’! see what you haye got to Tike him “He is manly and straightforward. There is “Which is'as much as to aay ar ther Thank ‘ou, sir.” 2 ve been at the school Armond did not answer. = ae He ‘sulked and puffed ee this woes. 2
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s. The three delegates from the Brighton Boys’ Corps had entered for the Queen’s prize. They took their place in squads opposite the targets. uddenly Dick remembered that he had for- gotten to provide himself with ammunition. He mentioned his oversight: to Messiter, who had been more thoughtful. “Tm all right,” said the latter. “And I’m in the dart. Where do you get the ammunition ?” asked Dick. “At the tent, up there.” “Tm in the same position as Lightheart,” exclaimed Armond. ‘‘ We need not both go. I'll run up and get you some, and some for my- self at the same time.” “Will you? That’s kind,” answered Dick. * Tf there’s anything to pay, I'll settle with you afterwards.” ; Armond nodded and ran off. He was not gone long, and when he returned, ge handed Dick a ‘paper of cartridges, with which he proceeded to load his rifle. The firing went on all day. Dick’s practice was very fine indeed. He made a bull’s-eye nearly every time, and when he failed to do that, he scored a center. Messiter was not so lucky. Armond, however, stuck close to Dick, and che way in which the two Brighton Boys fired elicited general admiration. ~ At the conclusion of the day’s shooting, it was officially announced that Lightheart, of the 10ist. Sussex, or Brighton Boys’ Volunteers, was the winner. He had won the first stage of the Queen’s. What a triumph! and how proud ho felt of it. ‘An official connected with the association came up and congratulated him, to the envy of many a bearded veteran. «Allow me to look at your rifle,” said the ; officer. Dick did so. tr was a regulation rifle, and passed. “Now your ammunition.” Dick handed him the cartridges he had left, Afrown came over the face of the officer, whose name was Crabbe. ‘Where did you get these ?” he asked. * At the council’s tent.” #6 Are you sure?” “Well, I did not get them myself,” Dick paid; ‘‘I asked Mr. Armond, my comrade, here, todosofor me.” E Armond was standing by, looking paler and more cadayerous than usual. . ‘Ts this the man ?” asked Captain Crabbe. ‘¢'Yes.” “The fact is,” said Armond, ‘that I found that Thad some cartridges, such as we use at the butts at Brighton, and 1 thought they would do, so I gave them to Lightheart.” ~ ‘What did you use yourself ?” “Those I got ab the tent in the morning,” answered Armond. ' The officer looked grave. J «J will go and report this to the Council of the Association,” he said. ge ¢ “What for, if I may ask?” inquired Dick, feeling anxious. : : «Tf a man does not fire with the regulation cartridges provided by the Association, he is - mecessarily disqualified.” J “J did not know that, and I thought it was all right when I sent Armond to the tent.” aes Satry for you. I will make my report, and you shall know the result in a few mninutes.” With these words of ill-omen Captain Crabbe went away, : ; i The utmost excitement prevailed during his absence. ee % “Dick leant on his rifle and looked gloomily at the targets, which had had such ion for him all day long. =a Tt was very hard to lose his hard-earned honors through a mistake yy: he same ammunition, se { all might ry a fascina- Still it was just that every ager ata tr should 4 = ‘ips, forbune had dashed it rudely away. DICK LIGHTHEART'S TRIALS. ‘Cheer up, old man, It may be all right yet,” said Messiter. Dick shook his head gloomily. “They say Captain Crabbe is a good sort, and will do what he can for you.” ‘‘He’s erabbed me, I’m afraid,” Dick replied, with a sickly smile. Armond did not come near Dick, but stood by himself. A malicious twinkle appeared in his eye, and he smiled to himself at times, as if much pleas- ed at something. OHAPTER XXVL DIOK IS DISQUALIFIED. Prusentiy the officer reappeared. “Well, sir?” ejaculated Dick, whose heart was in his mouth. “T regret to have to inform you that you are disqualified,” replied the captain. «And that means ?’”’—— “Simply that you must give way to the man next to you on the list. ‘The Council can- not relax their rules in your favor, though you have their sincere sympathy.” The announcement fell like a thunderclap up- on Dick. “Don’t be cast down, my lad,” continued Captain Crabbe ; ‘better luck next time. For such a good shot as you have proved yourself ta to be, there are plenty of prizes you can carry off with ease.” “J shall not fire another shot on this ground,” Dick replied firmly. “Don't say that,” the captain said kindly. “T can understand your being put out at this unfortunate occurrence ; but you must not give way. You've got the honor of making the best score, if you don’t get the prize.” “Thank you, sit, for your good-nature,” answered Dick, gulping down his grief. . “4 word in your ear,” Captain Crabbe con- tinued. He lowered his yoice and added: “Ts this man a friend of yours ?” «¢Who—Armond ?” “Yos; that is his name, I think.” “No; anenemy. He hates me like steam,” answered Dick. “In that case, get your cartridges yourself next time. He was not fool enough to fire with the Brighton ammunition.” Do you think he did it on purpose ?” “ Tsay nothing,” replied the captain. ** But the circumstances look decidedly suspicious. Find me out; come to my tent this evening, will you? Ishall be glad to see you, and will introduce you to some nice fellows.” With this he went on with the business of the meeting. | Arvmond’s name was second on the list, and his cartridges being all right, he was declared the winner of the first stage of the Queen’s Prize in the place of Lightheart disqualified. The camp was now full of volunteers and their friends; ladies walked about with their brothers, sisters, and sweethearts, who showed them every object of interest. Dick had wandered away behind a -tent, where no one saw him, and there he sat down. Messiter had missed him. Dick was glad to be alone, There are times when the society of one’s fellow-creatures is absolutely unbearable, He had received a great blow. The more he thought over the matter, the more sure he felt that Armond was the cause of his trouble. : He had been purposely supplied with the ammunition, which he ought not to have used. His vanity had been flattered at beating so many crack shots. - _ ; How hard-he had practised to be able to do this. ‘How often had he fondly dreamed of tri- umphs at Wimbledon which should win him the applause of friends and enemies alike, “When the cup of success was raised to his | winner,” a - = 93. _If Armond could have seen him as he sat hidden away behind the tent, he would have — been rid of half his hatred, for he would have felt the sweets of revenge. It was growing late. How long he had been in he did not know. Suddenly he heard voices. : Some ladies were speaking to a gentleman in the tent behind which he had thrown himself down in his fit of disappointment. ‘* Who did you say won the Queen’s asked a lady. “Tt’s not won yet, Lady Mary. We have only decided the first stage,” was the reply. “Never mind the technicalities, my dear Captain Crabbe,” answered Lady Mary. ‘Tell me all about it.” “ “With pleasure. It was actually won by a — boy, quite a youth, I can assure you, named Lightheart, but the prize has gone to one a year or two his senior, whose name is Armond.” _~ Dick listened almost without meaning it. He became interested in it when he found he was the subject of the conversation. : The tent to which he was so close was, he ,— could not doubt, Captain Crabbe’s. “Armond, what a pretty name. I declare I could fallin love with Armond without seeing him,” said another lady.” ‘I don’t think you would,” replied the cap- his present position - Prize?” in. “Why not?” ‘* He is not an estimable sort of young man atall. Quite the contrary. I, for one, have a positive horror of the young rascal.” “Who, Lightheart or Armond?” inquir Lady Mary. ; ‘‘Armond. ‘The other is a fine fellow.” “Do please tell us all about it,” cried the ladies in chorus. = q ‘With camara but first of all, can I offer you any more champagne or,claret? My man has just brought a feat aoibiy te . The ladies declined. ; Captain Crabbe resumed his story. om ‘““We havea rule,” he said; ‘‘that every ono firing for a"prize must use the ammunition sup- plied by us. Lightheart sent Armond for some cartridges, and Armond gave him some hc had brought with him, which were not what we call _ regulation.” .- «¢ What a shame,” said Lady Mary. ne ‘«The worst is to come. Lightheart was de- clared the winner, and it did me good to see his handsome young face light up with pride and — joy at the announcement.” oe ‘Poor boy. Iam sorry he lost it,” said her ladyship. “4 Dick felt grateful to her in his heartfor those — kind words, a “This Armond,” continued the captain, ‘came up to me and slipped a piece of.paper into m ee ai the conclusion of the firing.” ‘What for iad “To request me to examine Lighth cartridges. This showed me, when I h ap that Armond had premeditated the wh “‘ Does Lightheart know this?” ; “He does not; what was the use of causing enmity between them? I crumpled up the paper and let it fall at my feet near the lac ” D7) a 2. : a T don’t like Armond a bit now; but I feel § should like to kiss Lightheart,” said the yo lady, adding, ‘‘that is, if he’s not too big.” “TJ have asked him to give me a look up evening,” said the captain. . *¢ Will he come while we're here?” eS -“T don’t know. Perhaps he will not com: atall, He seemed awfully cut up.” _ ‘No wonder,” said Lady Mary. ‘* you not let him havethe prize after “ZT could not do so; though I that I neyer accomplished any duty antly in my life before, as I did tha ifying Lightheart, and declarin Dick waited to hear ion, but, witha bou
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DICK LIGHTHEARTS TRIALS. a | Dick walked ppeys sob acnatis the spot from which the firing taken place. It was deserted now. With the utmost carehe searched in every direction for a piece of paper which had been ; written upon. The ground was strewn with. little bits.of paper of all kinds ; some were cartridge papers, some had notes. on them, and so on. Atlength; just as it was getting dark, Dick _ uttered a cry. He had picked up what he was. seeking for. Holding it up to the clear and lovely moon- light to make sure, he read it, The contents were as follows : ** Sim,—I beg to inform you that Lightheart, the winner of the first stage of the Queen’s, has not been using the regulation cartridge. On examination, you will find evidence to disqual- ify him. I am, sir, yours, C, A., of the B.B.V., or 101st Sussex. P. $.—This is strictly private.” When Dick had read this, with compressed Tips, he smoothed it out, and put it in his * pocket. ‘The base scoundrel,” he muttered; ‘he’s like a snake. But this letter is something; Pl say it came from Captain Crabbe.” Feeling very faint and thirsty, for he had only indulged in one glass of bitter all day, he wandered to the refreshment saloon, where he was soon engaged in discussing the merits of cold duck and beer. He had scarcely finished his repast, when he was tapped on the shoulder by Messiter. “ Hullo, old cock!” he exclaimed; ‘* where have you been hiding ?” -_ “Ym down on my luck, Harry,” answered Dick. Pd “So I thought. Whata dance you’ve given me. I’ve been everywhere after you.” ~ Where's Snarley ?” _ ‘*He and Armond are over there in that cor- ner. Don’t you see Snarley spooning the fair- haired girl behind the bar ?” “TI see.” ** Armond has got several admirers since he won the first stage.” : __ * Since he chiselled me out of it, you mean,” _ gaid Dick indignantly. “Just as youlike. Buthe has won it, fairly orunfairly, aud his new friends are standing him champagne like one o’clock.” : : “Snarley’s by way of getting tight, isn’t he?” asked Dick. “ois Armond. He’s awfully cocky about his shooting. He boasted so about what he had done that I had to cut away from him.” “Ask him ifhe ever shot wild ducks at Whitechapel.” “Tt was a beastly chouse his giving you those wrong cartridges, but he swears he did not mean it,” said Messiter. ’s a——” began Dick. F aw it mild, ” interrupted Messiter. - _ “Tl say he’s a perverter of the truth, if that will please you. ad this note which he gave _to Captain Crabbe.” Messiter looked at the note, and was much disgusted. “Tt was a planned thing,” he said. “Of course ; you can see it was a plant,” exclaimed Dick. ‘‘Let’s have a beer.” ey ordered some beer, and Armond, seeing ame up and said : Oh; Lightheart, ’'m glad to see you: So sorty you did not get the prize. Will: you di- __-vide the money with me?” ‘That's generous, I like that; It shows a good spirit,” observed Mr. Snarley. _ **No, exclaimed Dick, surlily. Don’t be riled, old fellow,” continued Ar- “Tm awfully aah that I gave you éartridges: but I had not, read the pid not to read rules,” said Snarley. lemen,” said Dick, addressing the vol- who were standing by, and who had akin; this lette ‘such afuss with Armond; ‘‘Thave | which is writ ae Armond;to Captain Crabbe. Read it, if you please, and then tell me if’ he has not been guilty of the basest, conduct.” A volunteer took it from him and read it aloud. There were murmurs of indignation. : Mr. Snarley looked over the reader’s shoulder, and said : : ‘Tt is Armond’s writing, and bears his sig- nature, sure enough. This looks very bad.” ‘“‘T know nothing about it,” Armond said, looking as. pale as a sheet. “ After this, I must decline any further asso- ciation with you, Mr. Armond,” remarked the volunteer. ‘‘And I! and I!” cried others; ‘You have behaved like a cad, and it is plain that you plotted’to get your friend and school- fellow disqualified, ’ continued the first speaker. The volunteers all’ turned their backs upon him. ‘Why did you come and expose me like this ?” asked Armond, wild with rage. “Because you deserve it. You have played me dirty tricks before now, and Tl take care you don’t shoot any more at this meeting,” ex- claimed Dick. “You can’t prevent me, my dear fellow,” an- swered Armond, sneering. “Yes, I can.” “How ?” “By bunging both your eyes up, which I mean to do. §0 mind yourself, for here goes.” As Dick spoke, he struck Armond as hard as he could in the face, and followed up the blow by another and another. ‘‘Myr. Snarley—gentlemen,” cried Armond, staggering up forthe fourth time. ‘‘Saye me! Don’t let him doit! Help! help!” Dick rushed at him again, and this time put his head under his arm, getting him in chance- ry, and pounding away savagely at him. In vain he kicked and struggled. It was all of no use. At last Dick thought he had punished him enough, and let him fall down in a heap, bleed- ing and disfigured. Both eyes were beginning to puff up and swell; his nose was bleeding profusely, and a tooth that stuck in his throat made him cough and choke preg “There, Mr. Cocky Armond, B. B:, you'll crab me again, will you?” said Dick. Gries of ‘‘ Serve him right!” ‘Do the sneak good!” arose on all sides. Dick took Meéssiter’s arm and strode away, leaving Mr. Snarley to care for Armond, “Snarley can look after his pet sneak, and they may mingle their tears together,” remarked Dick. : ‘What a welting you gave him! Poor beg- gar, he’ll be as blind as a kitten for a week,” said Messiter. “Tt's his own fault. He shouldn’t do such shabby things. I never felt so happy in my |: life as when I was hiding him.” ‘¢ T- shouldn’t haye liked to haye had it,” ob- served Messiter, ‘‘ Asif I would touch you, dear old boy,” an- swered Dick, affectionately. ‘‘ Armond would. murder you if he got the chance.” “T believe he would,” Dick answered thought- fully. ‘‘He’s just the sort of mato doit. I should not like to take a lonely walk with him on the downs, and go too near the cliffs; he’d push me over.” “That's a moral,” said Messiter. ‘*Shy him in future as much as you can.” “T always do fight shy of him. You and Brabazon are the only fellows I pal up with, Now; what's the next excitement?” “Can't say. I’m game for anything, from marbles to manslaughter.” _ ‘Let's have alark with Snarley. Come back to quarters.” ; ‘All serene,” said Messiter; and they re- turned to their tent. ; Mr. Snarley and Arm axr them, as they had patronized the Sao! J-way, and the others had walked leisurely Armond had arrived before tram- along. Armond was lying on his back, with a raw’ beefsteak on each eye. : Mr. Snarley had been drinking champagne: until he was inclined to be merry with any one and over anything. “Here comes the great prizefighter;” lie said; ‘‘the man of fists and muscles., You have done for poor Armond: Hé is wm settled member.” ‘«Qlad to hear it,” answered Dick: ‘Come, come, don’t bé too hard on the poor fellow. Be jolly, Lightheart. You have dis- turbed the harmony of the evening: Those volunteers were paying for champagne like gentlemen, before you came up,” said. Mr Snarley. ; “T only want him to understand: that Pm not going to be messed about and badgered by a tripe-boiling cad like that,” answered Dick. Armond was too much cowed to be able to say anything. Dick’s onslaught was so sudden and irresist- able, that he was quite knocked out of time. Under other circumstances he might have answered him back again. “You're getting quite a desperaté fellow,” Mr. Snarley went on. ‘‘ But I shall say noth- ing about it at home.” “T shall,” replied Dick, ‘‘Forget/and forgive, that’s what I say.” Messiter whispered to Dick ; “ Snarley’s half cocked.” 7 But, low as was his voice, the usher overheard the remark. ; “Tf you mean, Messiter, that Ihave had too much to drink, you are mistaken,” he observed. “Tnstead of having too much, I have had a drop too little, and will refresh myself from this little flask.” He produced a pocket flask, and drank. “‘Come outside, sir’ said Dick; ‘‘I have something to say te you, if you don’t mind.” Mr. Snarley followed him outside. ‘What is it, Lightheart ?” he inquired. ‘Will you go in for the Windmill Prize, sir? I know you can shoot a little,” said Dick. “Have I any chance ?” “Certainly, It is open to all comers.” ‘¢ When does it take place?” asked the usher. ‘Men fire every night, just before it gets dark, Take my rifle, and come on. Don’t lose any time, sir.” Mr. Snarley was just in the humor to do any silly thing, for he had drunk sufficient to make him half stupid. ‘Give me the rifle. Who's afraid?” he cried. . Dick handed him the rifle and led the way to the old windmill. m Most of the men in camp were in their tents, \ talking, singing, or playing whist. What may be called the streets of the camp were nearly deserted. > When they reached the windmill, Dick said: “Shoot up high, sir. Here are cartridges. You are entitled. to half a dozen shots. You must try to hit the woodwork at the top.” “Tl hit it,” replied Snarley, levelling his rifle, “Blaze away, sir,” replied Dick. Mr, Snarley prepared to do s0. CHAPTER XXYVIL A COOL SHOT AT THE WINDMILL Ir was nearly half-past nine. Tee Every ono in the camp was enjoying himself quietly after the fatigue of the day. ' There were few stragglers in the neighbor. hood of the old windmill, Mr. Snarley pulled the trigger and fired. Z The sound of the shot reverbrated. through the camp with startling distinctness. eee > some boy that.
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DICK LIGHTHEART’S TRIALS. He looked round, but Dick was nowhere to be seen. *‘Tll have another go, Rather fun, this Windmill Prize shooting. No crowd, nor bother !” The sound of footsteps coming toward him in all directions fell upon his ears. . “Tt seems I’m making a sensation; here goes for number three,” said Snarley. This time he missed. ‘© Wide of the mark, try This kicks a little,” he remarked to friatt Suddenly he was surrouuded by an ex- ‘cited crowd. A gentleman rudely took his rifle from him, exclaiming : ‘* Who is this lunatic ?” Mr. Snarley stared at him. **Name of Snarley,” he replied. . “Does anyone know the natio ?” continued the gentleman. **Tunatic yourself. Who are you calling » Junatics?” exclaimed Snarley, ‘‘Stand on one side, I want another shot. ive me my gun.” *Oall a file of the guard,” said the gentle- man, ‘‘Who are you ?” inquired Snarley defiantly. “Tam Major Wildmay, secretary of the As- sociation.” “T don’t care for you, if you were half-a- dozen secretaries. Can you fight? Ican. Come on; come on, all of you.” “He must be mad,” remarked a bystander, ~ ‘The crowd increased every moment. ‘What are you taking cool shots at the mill for ?” asked Major Wildmay. He wanted to keep the supposed madman in ‘conversation, until the guard came up. ’ *€T went in for the Windmill Prize, and if I hayn’t made a center, I’ve scored two outers,” replied Snarley. At this aedineation there was @ roar of laugh- ter from the spectators. The excitement and the drink he had im- bibed were beginning to tell upon the usher. “Give ’sh th’ gun,” he said. The crowd roared again. ‘He's tight,” remarked one. ** Screwed as an owl,” observed another. -_ “*@un, pleash. Give ’sh gun,” continued eee ce voice was getting thick and ha The volunteers, who had left their tents owing to the sound of the firing, which was strictly forbidden hours before that, began to ‘consider the whole affair a good joke. At this moment the guard came up and ‘placed themselves on each side of Snarley, oie they’ took in custody. _ ‘What going to do now?” asked the usher, ‘with an imbecile chuckle. “Turn him out of the camp neck and erop,” said the secretary, ‘and give strict orders that ‘he i is not to be admitted again.” ~ ** Well, that’s cool,” Sertarkod Snarley. ‘I’m a volunteer. iN exe from?” inquired the secretary. ‘ye Beast rightonsh—101st Sussexsh Voluntecrsh. "There is a fellow who knows me,” added ‘Snar- ey, espying Dick in the crowd. _ He pointed out Lightheart, ~ ‘Step forward, sir,” said Major Wildmay. _ Dick did so. ~ Do you know this man?” continued the ‘major. “Never saw him before, to my knowledge,” answered Dick. ‘Are you a Brighton volunteer ?” Yes,” #680 you do not recognize this man es “Not in the least. fs 's my impression he’s rank outsider,” answered Dick, “Mr, Snarley was stupefied. Well, I’m blest,” he’ rejoined, as Dick » stepp ped back, ‘‘Thish. is becoming funny. tin ft: ash. a night of adventuresh.” ___ March,”’ said Major Wildmay, adding, “‘ you | alt with. Take him.” crowds, collected at every point, and rudely cast out in the outer darkness of the common. He looked about him with a puzzled expres- sion. “Very curioush thing,” he muttered. ** What did they take me—some mistake—make them apologise in the morning.” A, belated fiy-driver saw him and said: “Bly, six?” “No, sir,” replied Snarley; ‘‘not being a bird, I cannot fly, neither have my legsh any inclination to walk. I will ride. Assist me into your—hic—yehic—hic—hicle, and take me to the nearest hotel—hic.” The driver, with a smile, helped him inside, and drove him to the best. place of accomoda- tion in Wimbledon. Here he got a bed, and soon went fast asleep, dreaming that he was fighting a duel with the secretary of the Association, who suddenly turned into a windmill, by which he was ground into powder, and made into bread. CHAPTER XXVIIL A DANGEROUS LUNATIO, Wuen Dick, to his great delight, had seen the usher expelled from the camp, he returned to his tent, and ealling out Messiter told him the news. ‘« We shall not hear of or see him again until the morning,” he concluded, ‘‘so let's have a game at cards and then go to roost.” Messiter was agreeable, and they played until it was time to put out the light, In the morning they woke early, but early as it was, Armond was not to be seen in his bed. His bag, too, was gone. On the foot of Mx. Snarley’s bed lay a, letter, which Dick espied. “Armond’s eloped,” said Messiter, ‘*Tt looks like it. Here’s a letter, which I shall take the liberty of opening,” said Dick. He broke the envelope and read: “¢Dear sir, after the brutal treatment I re- ceived last night at the hands of that savage, Lightheas 11 “ That's neat,” put in Messiter. s¢¢T have made up my mind not to stay in camp any longer,’” continued Dick, reading, “*¢and I.shall go to my father’s private resi- dence in the Roman Road, Bow, where you can hear of me until I get better, or if you will favor us with a visit, I shall be delighted to see 4s As you did not sleep in tent last night, I am anxious about you, and hope nothing has ha: pened, though we are none of us safe with that blackguard Lightheart.”? ‘“Hasn’t he got his knife into you?” said Messiter, adding: ‘Is that all?’ ‘* That’s finis,” replied Dick. ‘“The sweep! I’m glad he’s gone, What shall wedo now? We're like the babes in the wood. Hadn’t we better go home ?”’ “Not yet. I haven't done with Snarley,” answered Dick. ‘¢ What’s the next move on the board ?” ‘You'll see, if you live long enough, Get up, and come out with me,” . The boys were not long dressing, and Dick led the way outside the camp, where he looked about for a cab. Seéing one, ‘he said to the driver: ‘‘Tsn’t there a lunatic asylum here ?” Yes, sir; on the common—not far off—Dr, Dismal’s replied the man. ‘Very weil. I shall want to be driven there in an hour or two—say ten o’clock. Wait for me,” said Dick, Going into camp again, the boys had their | breakfast, and, as Dick expected, in a short time a note reached them from Mr. Snarley. It was dated ‘‘ Rifle Hotel, Wimbledon.” “Dzar AnMonp,—I fear Lightheart played me a shameful trick last night. He took me out. to shoot at the windmil fora prize, and consi consider yourself lucky, my man, to be so | having had more wine than usual, I have come to the conclnsion that I made a fool of myself. al dey ae marched sheasels wonidering re Jet Hpi pees: We must go home at! once ; our trip has ended disastrously. Bring Lightheart me Messiter, with the baggage, ta this hotel. I cannot come to you, as I was ex- pelled from the camp last night, and ordere not to enter it again. “Ever yours, “Samoun Snanury.” “‘Now we know where he’s put up, we'll gos and see Dr. Dismal,” said Dick, having finished the perusal of the letter. ‘What for ?” asked Messiter. - To get Snarley locked up as a lunatic. FE shall tell Dr. Dismal that he is of weak intel lect, and escaped from Brighton, having fol- lowed us up here. Leave me to. piteh a tale: into him, : ‘* Will they take him, do you think ?” ‘“‘T’ll bet you a new hat on it,” replied Dick, In half an hour they were driven to Dr. Dis-- mal’s house, Dick told the doctor his story, saying that: Mr. Snarley’s friends were very respectable, and would pay wellfor his kindness in looking: after him, He related the affair of the windmill, and re- ferred him to Major Wildmay if he wanted cor~ roboration, ‘‘What I want you to do, sir,” Dick added, ‘tis to senda man to capture Mr. Bnarley, who is dangerous at large.” ‘Ah, I perceive ; sad case, weet said the: doctor. “When captured, send him to Professor Simcox, at Harrow House, Kemp Town, Brigh- ton.” «Ts that a private lunatic asylum?” - “Tt is, sir. Snarley escaped from there. TE know all his family, and am sincerely sorry for him.” “It shall be done at once. Oné of our best: men must go to the Rifle Hotel,” said Dr.. Dismal. “T fear, sir, the stxattawredaat must be used if he shows signs of violencé,” continued. Dick. ‘* Ah, yes, I must give orders, Fancy shoot— ing at the windmill. Dear, dear, sheer in- sanity. Thank you, young gentlemen; thein— terest you take in your acquaintance is highly creditable to you.” “T only do my duty, sir,” answered Dick, modestly. E “Rest assured, he shall be stopped before he. can do any more mischief, Fire at the wind- mill indeed! Dear, dear! it’s a mercy he has not taken human life.” With these words the doctor bowed them Pout, and Dick went off with Messiter, highly delighted with the resulf of the interview. The boys returned to the camp, watched “the shooting for an hour or two, had some dinner, and then seeking the railway station, took tickets to return to Brighton. ‘¢ What shall we say grek. Suarley ?” asked. Messiter. ‘Say he left us to ourselves, and we thought it best to come home. He will be sent back to Brighton directly, and get there almost as soom as we, I'll bet,” answered Dick. f “Won't he swear !” é “Come,” said Dick. ‘‘ We shall catch it, I expect. But no matter; they can’t kill us, and he shouldn’t have been such an ass as to go shooting at windmills.” — The train hurried them away to Brighton, ae where they were not expected yet. : Mr. Simcox had been informed by the morn- ; ing papers of Armond’s success for the first stage of the Queen’s as well as of Dick's plucky shooting. meee All the school was jubliant at the success of é the Harrow House boys, and hoped they mani. ? do better yet. ‘They little thought that a chapter of acci- ae had brought their Prontjging career to close. — ; We must return to Mr. Snarley, who. NY potiee his ease at his inn. while Hees 4
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a “Bet, “burly man, accompanying Dr. Dismal, “took up’ position in the bar of the Rifle Hotel, His name was Slogger, andhe was a keeper “an thé lunatic asylum. ‘Keep within call,” said the doctor, in a Joud tone, Slogger nodded his head. Going to the bar, Dr. Dismal aid: ; -*Ah, pardon me; have youa gentleman of the name of Snarley here?” “Yes, sir,” said the barmaid; ‘‘that is’ the mame of the gentleman who came’in last night.” ‘*Can I see him?” \ “Certainly,” said the barmaid, ringing the tell for the waiter. “Never mind the name,” added Dr. Dismal, ‘Very well, sir. Here, John, show the gen- dleman to No. 9.” ‘The waiter who had just answered the bell tbowed to Dr. Dismai; whom he knew by sight. “ Anything wrong, sir?” inquired John. “Have you noticed anything peculiar about this person ?” asked the doctor. «No. 9, sir? Gentleman name of Snarley,” “Yes,” “Well, I must.say, he's a rum.sort of gent, He comes in rolling tight last night, pnd goes straight offito bed with his boots on,’ _ “Ah! bad sign that,” remarked Dr. Dismal. shaking his head. «Phen he goes in a reg'lar buster this morn- ing for seltzer and hock, and shies the bottle oi head for putting noice in it,” contin- “ue as Sey so. Tell Slogger to follow me up-|to stairs. Is Snarley astrongly-built man?” “‘Wiry, sir; not of much good in a tussle, Tshould think,” said John. “Very good—thank you.” Knocking at, the door of No. 9, a faint voice moplied, ‘‘Come in.” , . Dismal entered. Snarley saw -atell, thin man, dressed in tblack, the very image of himself, and bowed. The doctor returned the bow. “Whom may [have the honor of speaking to ?” said Snar! ey. “JT am Dr. Divmal, of Wimbledon,” was the reply ‘A‘sudden thought flashed across Snarley’s anin La ‘suppose you are proprietor of the wind- amill,” he said, ‘‘ and want compensation for it ‘bein shot at.” ecisely,” returned | the doctor. ‘Thon you won’t get it. I’m not to be im- posed upon. It's like your impudence to ome. tomy room. Get out.” “My A sir, calm these transports,” said the docto A Sat not. Ihave been made a fool of enough already, and you shall not get a shil- ding out of me,” cried Snarley. _ “Tt is all for your good, believe me, T am “your friend, and will send 2 "back to Brighton -—think of that, my dear ‘ ‘ert gh ‘be hanged, pot tas tlehi old man; I wouldn't know you,” cried Snarley, getting ang iste to mé,” urged'the doctor. ; “] wouldn't have you as a gift.” “Bo reasonable. I repeat I am your f friend.” ~“T wouldn’t pic’ you up in the street. Get out of my room,” vocifefated Snarley, who thought he smelt a rat, and that Lightheart was playing some new ‘trick upon him, as in veali ity he was. Ah?’ ‘said Dr. Dismal, ‘this a pity but when gentle means fail we must have recourse 20. harsh measures.” Going to the door, he cried “Slogger.” Tho dig, burly, broad-chested man entered: _ Snarley took up the poker and brandished it over his head. “Shall 1 go in, sir?” asked Slogg “Yes, Confine him in the waistonat—{(tick, ‘he will do us an injury : t ey in the rear. t tudo a otsoudt 68 the room and took ite feat instant he te on his back; male “helpless by being confined in the dis- | se ey a spe DICK LIGHTHEARTS TRIALS, is one of my Sa aa cack css jamnns ie tndg ie acdsee who went up to Sates as, cakes ie DARGA, (tka *tolda’ “Ge “a wedlaabicha.” HAL Ns Ode EF ape MeO Wiles eat ee don with three of our best shots.” “Then the governor and Ive been - sold,” exclaimed Slogger, looking crest-fallen} ‘* we've been had alive. Oh, my! won't he’ go on? We've been had like lambs. Oh, Jerusalem! here’s ago.’ Mr. Snarley'sat down in a chair in triumph, He felt that his troubles were over. ‘* Explain this to me,” said the professor, ““F can’t,” said Slogger. «And I'm sure I can’t. You must’ wait fill Lightheart turns up; ‘he’s at the bottom of it all.” “ANT can say, sir,” observed Slogger, “is this; we received information this mornin | that ‘a dangerous lunatic, who had been expelle from the camp, was at large at the Rifle Hotel, Wimbledon, and we were requésted to convey tressing folds of a strait-waistcoat, which effectually prevented ‘him from making any further demonstration with the poker. Slogger with a quiet smile lifted him up and put him on a chair. “What is the meaning of this outrage, my good sir?” demanded the usher. ‘“ We are going to restore you to your friends at Harrow House, Kemp Town, Brighton,” answered Dr. Dismal. “T was: going there myself. What is to prevent me. going by myself, you stupid old lunatic? What do you come meddling with me for? “Slogger will explain to you. He has his instructions. Good morning.’ Meas these words Dr Dismal vanished. to his keeper, Snarley said: «Does e think T’m mad?” “Something like it. Are you ready to.come !him back ‘to to Brighton, your address ‘bemg bs ‘“‘Not yet, I’m waiting for my friends.”’ “ By whom ?” ‘Two Rite tre gentlemen volunteers.” f Turning to the usher, Mr. Simcox exclaimed: ¢¢Mr. riley, I must ask you what you did to be expelled from the camp ?” «We had been celebrating Armond’s victory, “Do you mean two young gentlemen—vol- unteers ?” ac Yes. ” ‘“They’re all right. It was those who came to the governor ‘this morning, and told all about your escaping from Brighton,” sir.” , Mr. Snarley groaned. ‘Which means, I suppose, that youhad been * “Tread on,” he said with a sigh. ‘Take | drinking too much.” me away; do what you like with me. I am| ‘I fear; so, sir; at all events, Lightheart the victim of that wretched boy again.” persuaded me that the Windmill Prize was shot for by'moonlight, and I blazed away at the old mill; the consequence being that’ was turned out of: the camp.’ ‘* You are totally unfit for the command of youth, over whom you cannot maintain a proper control, I shall consider whether I shall-retain you in my employ or not,” replied Mr. Simcox, in.a tone of wrath, ‘Yours is not the only school in the woxld, my dear sir,” retorted Mr. Snarley. *« And you are not everybody’ S money, allow me to remind you, Mr. Snarley.” ; ‘¢Don’t talk to me, sir,” cried the usher. _ ‘Go to your own apartments,” thundered the professor. “‘T shall not. I mean to go to some. hotel and haye my. dinner, and pay for it like a man,” answered Snarley. Snarley moved toward the door, but he had (scarcely S aetied it before Mr. Simcox ram after [Dee and touched him on the shoulder. a "Your hand, Snarley,” he said. “t give it freely,” replied the usher, Slogger wondered at ‘his captive’s sudden resignation, ‘but remembering he had his duty to perform, ‘ordered a fly for the station. e was induced to take off the waistcoat, as Mr. Snarley promised faithfully to be quiet, - The fit’s over now, and if it comes on again, I can master him,” thought Slogger. During the journey, Snarley was excited, and anxious. It was a real relief to him when they ‘reach- ed Brighton, and drove to Harrow House. He wanted to run in, but Slogger held him tightly by the arm. “ Tmustgive you up tothe principal,” he said. They were shown into the say Ie Pen the maid servant saying : «Oh ! Mr. Snarley, is it you, sir?” «Ask Mr. Simcox to come here at once,” re- plied the usher. When they were alone, Slogger said + * Have you many here ?” & «About seventy-five boys in all.” ‘Boys! Lunatics you mean.” to the station ?” asked Slogger. given.’ But = ta tanta 72 a school. You've =) oaxe marley. “ I be , andl Slogger aaeee! hy shoulders, as if he sor beapigh om" pee knew better than «And I too have been in fault. I have had Presently Mr. Simoox entered. my trials since I left this house, anditistoo «Hal Snarley,” he said, shaking his hand. | much, sir, to be turned round be ape by you.” “Glad to see you. Glorious news in the ““Sharley, you were with me w. = Wher this morning. Splendid ree | this school, with six boys, one of eine pres ére are'the boys, and why: this early return?” | pay. No matte:.. We must not quarrel. Go — “Ask this man!” exclaimed Snarley, turning ; ‘and dine where you like, and I will pay the earpgely upon the keeper. | bill.” imceox looked inquiringly at Slogger. “A chop, sir; a humble chop will content “T've brought him back safe, sir, "he ex. a cooked in your own, kitchen, replied Snar- ling it i incum ; Senet ioe pent ceo imo tt ie’: Stay, I haye ducks for my) dinner. in balt “ Brought him ba¢k—what do you thean ?” | hour.” “He at loose in the cam’ a and was| The professor took Slogger, the Kooper, i io found shooting at the windmill’ peg cote the room, and told him ho OW the case « Got loose—windmill—dear me, I am at a . it 1 derstand you,” said Mr. Simcox, look. |; Slogan was speedily convineed and receiv. ane fonceote He thee Ook | ing a small gratuity from Mr. Simeox, proniised — Ts easily explained, sir,” remarked Mx. |*©:¢*Plain the mistake tor. Dismal = 7 Snarley, peer 7 a smile, He took his departure, and shortly serra, e to question this | dinner was served, to which ‘the professor and rson. Who are you?” logger. out ona visit. Some capital ox-tail soup preceded thet duce wpe yal hink Mx. 8 ley mad ?” tart, and washed down with a bottle of sh “Do you thin marley mad ?” and wi own a Cy ‘i a : For some time Mr. Simcox was ba aes ‘First of all, permit m pe 2 sald the ptohasae to | Snarley sat down together, Mrs. imogg be ‘Head keeper at Dr, Dismal’s Tum at E ; ea and green peas, which were followed by cherry — You ought to ey since you keep an bog ise 48 said Slo At length he said : “T keep an asylu a i exclaimed the’ ‘profess. | ‘* What is to be done ba a of tee ee “My establishment is an ac-| “L Pt tlemeu, os Snarley. P eet erie Blodget EC Yos. He is ot tiogtier «<7 defeat his a hoo, and Mr Smeg pest? é re 2 moe
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DICK LIGHTHEART’S TRIALS beat Armond behaved like a villain, and deserved “the thrashing he got.” ‘¢ Will you not punish him for sending me to the wrong train, and making me shoot at the windmill?” “JT do not see how I can justly do so.” “Then again, he had me sent home as a dangerous lunatic, in charge of a keeper,” said the usher. ‘‘You must confess that you did not behave | in jike a sane man,” answered the professor. “Why did you not make your own inqui- xies ?—you know the hoy’s tendencies to practi- cal joking.” th ‘Then you do not propose to do anything to im ?? ‘* All that has taken place happened out of «my jurisdiction. I shall take no notice of what he has done, and I must say that you have only yourself to thank for your mishaps.” Mr. Snarley looked disappointed. ‘Well, sir,” he said, ‘‘L must bow to your decision. ’ There was a ring at the bell, and the servant announced the return of Masters Lightheart and Messiter, “T-am glad to hear they have come back,” exclaimed Mr. Simcox, ‘‘Snarley, retire. I will see Lightheart.” The usher went away, and Dick was ushered ‘into the awful presence of the head master. Mr. Simcox spoke kindly to him, and ex- tracted from him a true account of all that had happened. “Now, sir,” concluded Dick, ‘‘ you know all, what are you going to do with me.” “T will merely make one request, Lightheart,” replied the professor, ‘‘and itis this: Try and keep your mischievous propensities within bounds. | Will you promise me this?” “> can’t help having larks with Snarley, sir,” answered Dick. ‘‘He is such a baby.’ “‘ Remember heis your tutor, and you should treat him with respect.” “So I do in school, sir; but in camp it was different.” “Well, run away, and play, I depend upon your good sense and honor to behave as well as you can while under my roof. Recollect that you are growing up, and bad seed sown in uth is dificult to root up in manhood, Go. am not pleased with you.” se5 Dick was more cut up by the kind way in which he was spoken to by the head. master, than he would have been by harsh measures. He made a resolve that he would endeavor te deserve his kindness. How he kept his word we shell see. OHARTER XXIX. THE DEVIL'S DYKE, - Warn Dick left Mr. Simcox, he went toward the schocl-room, but was intercepted im the bereee by Mr. Snarley. : “‘Thero ismy hand, Lightheart,” said the usher, ‘‘let bygones be bygones.” “Certainly, sir. I have behaved badly, and am sorry for it, an you forgive me?” “¥Frecly. Youcan see I have done. s0; through my intercession with Mr. Simcox, you have escaped punishment.” “Did you ask him tc les mo off ?” “T did,” replied Snarley. ‘‘My dear boy, I “Very well, sir. Pll let you down easy,” replied Dick, smiling. In spite of this understanding, however, he made the boys langh when he told them what *| had taken place in camp. Armond did not return for ten days, and even then there were bluish-green circles round his little pig-like eyes. Dick avoided hin as much as he could, say- 8: ** He has been home, and ho smells of stale tripe. He is not nice.” Ina week or two the Wimbledon journey was forgotten. All the boys were thinking of a promised treat whicn Mr. Simcox had arranged, It was a pienic at the Devil’s Dyke This famous gulley or gorge in the Downs was to be reached by the boys in two large omnibuses, and they were to take provisions with them. They started at ten in the morning, and Dick bought a long horn to blow on the road, He called this his yard of tin, The King’s Road echoed again with the shrill blast he blew on the horn. He and Messiter were in high spirits, The day was gloriously fine, and the ground quite dry enough to sit and loll upon without danger. When, after a drive of about nine miles, they reached the solitary public known, as the ‘* Dyke House,” the boys were told that they might wander about where they liked till two o'clock. At that hour dinner would be ready in some sheltered spot which the master would select in the meantime. Dick and Messiter walked away arm-in-arm together. ‘There they go,” remarked Fowler. ‘« These two fellows. are inseparable. ” ‘‘They are really friends,” said Brabazon. “*T never saw any boys more attached to one another.”’ Armond overneard the conversation, ‘« Quite touching, isn’t if?” he said with a sneer. ‘‘ All the friendships ‘of antiquity pale before it.” : ‘**T don’t know about it being ‘touching,’” said Brabazon. ‘‘ Perhaps you’d like to have a friend.” ; fs Armond winched at ‘this. He knew that lately there was not a boy in the school who really liked him except his brother, Presently all the boys paired off together, or went in groups somewhere. Armond was lelt alone. Then the force of Brabazon’s remark camo home tohim, and he felt what it was to want a friend. me A terrible sense of loneliness oppressed him. Going into the ‘Dyke house,” he had some brandy,and lighting his pipe, strolled away for a solitary ramble. : He descended the side of the dyke, and eemed to try to get right away from every- and revel in his loneliness. = 8 Leet Meanwhile Dick and Messiter enjoyed the magnificent prospect mapped out before them on ‘his clear, bright, sunshiny day. “Took atthe dyke, Dick,” said Messiter ; what a huge hollow it is. I wonder how it came to be made.” peas “They say the devil dug it, out in a single bear no malice in my heart, ‘The professor | night,” replied Diok. ‘was furious, and wanted to have you flogged, ‘but Tbegged him to take a more lenient view of your condnet.” — _ Dick had no means of disprovying this state- “That's all nonsense, isn’t it ?” “‘T should think so. It is more likely the result of some earthquake, ages ago.” “Do you know what I should like to do - ment, though from his private knowledge of the | with it?” said Messitex. usher’s character, he was not quite inclined to believe it, ; _ “T feel much obliged, sir,” he said ; _ try to deserve your kindness.” _. “T only ask one return,” answered Snarley, ‘my adventures than you can help when ta BIR ge Thavea horror of being laug Lad _ “and that is this: Do not make more fun of | before. the oat = “*No ; what?” “ Build wp a wall on each side and then fill “J will| it with water.. Wouldn’t it make a splendid bathing-place ?”” : ‘Rather. Not a bad idea. We will lay it mayor of Brighton,” replied Dick, Bapeae we go down the side.” lau, “You lazy béggar ; it will do you good, and - take your fat. down a bit,” answered Dick. — After a little hesitation Messiter allowed him. self to be persuaded, and they precipitous side of the dyke. When they reached the bottom, Dick said: “Let's sit down here. No master can see BB. “Not a little bit.” ‘That's right. Now I am dodge I've had in my mind past.” r He drew sundry paper parcels from his pocket, and began to unwrap them, ‘ Pirst of all he disclosed a handsome briar- root pipe; secondly, a neat parcel filled with bird’s-eye ; and thirdly, a little German silver box, containing fusees. “You're never going to smoke, Dick,” cried or some time “I think I shall die,” hing. se we m the side,’ rthere’s the beastly bother of getting up| At. Messiter. “‘Tam, though.” replied Dick., **Oh, won't you shoot the cat, that’s all?” “Shall I? It don’t follow that because some fellows with weak stomachs ‘are sick, that I must éat over my first pipe,” ‘Well, replied Messiter, **I wouldn’t do it for a prize.” ‘*You shall have a puff if you’re good. Did tes see the men smoking at Wimbledon, aad ow happy they seemed over it ?” ‘*"Yes.” * Didn't they have to learn ?” **T suppose so.” ' “Very well then, everything must have e beginning, and this is Sant If [turn ou can chaff; but until then, oblige me ‘by coping that potato-trap of yours closed,’ said Dick. deseended the — going to try a> He filled his pipe, struck a vesuvian and lighted it. Messiter watched with great anxiety. For a time he puffed away bravely, and the smoke curled upward in little rings. “It’s lucky when the smoke makes rings in — the air, I’ye heard,” he said, ; . “*Ts it?” replied Dick; ‘‘that’s another of your old woman's stories, Harry.” : How do you like it?” ‘First rate. It’s A 1.” Presently Dick turned pale, and his band trembled a little. Offering the ipe to his friend, he said: — ‘Have a pull?” Bp ae ‘‘No, thank you, not if I know it. I.don’t want my unfortunate stomach turned inside out,” replied Messiter. : ty The pipe fell from Dick’s hand and fell upon wae ne vi ‘ee h, Harry,” he said ina faint voice, ‘I feel so bad.” : 2 He leant back again the bank. and his eyes closed, 5s Only those who remember the effects of the first pipe can really understand his feelings. — ‘* What's the matter?” inquired Messiter, who was inclined to laugh, ict : “T don’t know, I think I shall die. Oh, I wish I hadn’t done it,” groaned Dick, “Get up and walk about.” ‘ ‘T conldn’t move for a handful of tarts. What shall Ido? Everything is turning round with me. It’s awful.” tarpaady “You would do it,” said Messiter. ‘I’m go glad I didn’t try.” : Turning his sick for about five minutes. ‘“*Don’t leave me, ‘Garry me out and bury me decently, said Messiter, who could not help laughing. — Dicksank back again on the green sward, ead round, Dick was dreadfully z Harry,” moaned Dick:
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2B ADVENTURES IN NORWAY. Sa A RE SSNS PORNO ORO feel better, though being still very light-headed - and dizzy. “Oan you walk now?” askod Messiter, glad ‘to see him move. Yes, I think so, if you will give me your - arm,” answered Dick. ° He got up, being very tottery on his legs, and leant upon Messiter. «here is your pipe and pouch,” said the latter. “Don’t mind them. TI shall never do it ‘again—never, never. What I’ve suffered, no- body knows.” «You'll remember your first pipe.” “Till I die,” answered Dick. - ‘The fresh breeze and the motion of walking braced him upa little, and he gradually got better. ' As the feeling of sickness passed off, he grew stronger and his spirits came back. “T should think,” he remarked, -‘‘that if everybody has to go through what I’ve under- gone, smoking isn’t worth the misery it must “take to acquire the art.” «You'll soon get used-to it.” *J don’t mean to try, and that’s all about it. ‘You've. got the laugh of me, old man. Chaff away ; 1 can’t help it,” Dick said, good-hum- oredly. © But Messiter was generous, and talked of other things, trying to make his friend . forget all about. it. . _ They had not gone far along the dyke before they sighted an encampment of gipsies. “Gipsies !” exclaimed Messiter. **T wonder if they would give mea drink of water or anything ; let’s go and ask them,” paid Dick. ‘My inside feels as if someone had _ been scraping it with an iron hoop, and then filled it up with hot cinders.” “Not a bad description,” laughed Messiter, The gipsies had spread their tents in a sheltered nook. The horses were grazing the short green grass ; dogs. and children gamboled and played together. The men lounged about smoking their pipes, the very sight of which made Dick shudder ; and the woman going in _ and out of the caravans, were making prepara- tions for dinner, the materials of which sim- - mered gently in a bigiron pot, suspended from _ a tripod over the fire. 3 “Morning, gentlemen,” saidadusky-skinned man. _ Same to you,” replied Dick. - give us a drink of something ?” _“ There’s water, and we have some beer in a bottle. ‘Take your choice. Which -will you J have 2? : ; _ The beer, I think. Malt is my tipple.” : The gypsy brought a stone bottle out of a hole in the earth, where he had put it to keep it cool. Pouring out some of its contents into a horn mug, he offered it to Dick, who drank eagerly, - and instantly felt ten per cent better. __ Giving the man a shilling for his'timely civil- ity, he sat down and watched the gypsies. An elderly woman, determined to ‘improve the occasion, came up and asked the boys to _ eross her hand with silver, and she would tell ** Can you their fortunes, -. **Go ahead, old girl,” said Dick; ‘*what am Ito be—hung or drowned ?” The hag eagerly scanned the hand he ex- tended to her. . “There is a break in the line. of life,” she answered, In strange, weird accents. ‘You are even now in danger. Beware, young man. If-you have an enemy, keep a guard upon him. I see trouble ahead.” ; Just then the sun was obscured by a heavy, black cloud. - “Tt is an omen,” continued the gypsy wo- Again I man. ‘Your enemy is near you. say, beware!” — * 2 “Saying this, she lot his hand fall, and walked apidly away. = Bet Me that’s a queer start,” said Dick. ‘Very,” replied Messiter. Armond, I suppose.” . ‘must be Armond. "Lam too young to | have made many enemies. Armond is the only one I know of,” Dick replied. Messiter squeezed his friend’s arm. “There is Armond,” he said. ** Where ?” “To the right. He has just come up, and is talking to that tall, villainous-looking gypsy,” “By Jove, you're right. It is funny that the woman should say my enemy was Near, isn’t it!” said Dick. “Very,” replied Messiter. * Tet’s slope. I’m better now,” “All right.” Armond did not appear to take any notice of them as they walked away. In fact, he was watching them closely. Lowering his voice, he said to the gypsy, whose name was Romany Jack: **Look at that boy—mark him well.” ‘Which ?” said thegypsy. ‘‘ There are two of them.” ‘The tall, bold-looking one. 4c Yes. ” ‘*Would you know him again?” asked Ar- mond. ‘‘Ina moment,” asked Romany Jack ; ‘‘ when I see a face I never forget it.” “Good!” said Armond. ‘‘ Step on one side, I want to speak privately to you.” Romany Jack walked by his side till they got away from the noise of the encampment, and then he stopped, facing Armond. “Now, then, governor,” he exclaimed, ‘‘ what is it ?” Armond looked pale and nervous, and seemed to be collecting his thoughts, for he did not speak for fully a minute. Do you see ?” a Adventures in Norway. i BY R. M. BALLANTYNE. PART I. Harrrnma to be in Norway just now, and believing that our young readers feel an inter- est in the land of the old Sea-kings, I give a short agcount of my experiences. Up to this date I verily believe that there is nothing in the wide world comparable to this island coast of Norway. At this moment we are steaming through a.region which the fairies might re- joice to inhabit. Indeed, the fact that there are no fairies here goes far to prove that there are none anywhere.. What a thought! No fairies?, Why all the romance of childhood would be swept away at one fell blow if I were to admit the idea that there are no fairies. Perish the matter-of-fact thought! Let me rather conclude that, for some weighty though unknown reason, the fairies have resolyed to leave this island-world uninhabited, Fortune favors me. I have just came on deck, after'a two day’s voyage across the Ger- man-Ocean, to find myself in the midst of in- numerable islands, a dead calm—so dead, that it seems impossible that it should ever come alive again—and scenery so wild, so gorgeous. that one ceases to wonder where the Vikings of old got their fire, their romance, their en- terprise, and their indomitable pluck. It is warm, too, and brilliantly sunny. On gazing at these bald grey rocks, with the bright green patches here and there, and an occasional red tiled hut, one almost expects to see a fleet of daring rovers dash out of a se- questered bay, with their long yellow hair, and big blue eyes, and broad shoulders—not to mention broad-swords, and ring-mail, and battle-axes. But one does not always see what one expects. The days of thé sea-kings are gone by; and at this moment, rowing out of one of these same sequestered bays, comes the boat of a custom-house officer! Yes, there is no doubt whatever about it. ‘There he comes, ‘a plain looking unromantic man ina foraging-' hours; but our subsequent experience led ; a cap, with a blue surtout and brass buttons, about as like to a sea-king as a man-of-war is to a muffin. Of course, the scenery is indescribable—no scenery 78 describable. In order that my reader may judge of the truth of this state- ment, I append the following description. There are islands round us of every shape and size—all of them more or Jess barren, the greater part of their surfaces being exposed@ grey rock. Here and there may be seen, as Ihave already hinted, small patches of bright green, and, sparsely scattered everywhere are little red-roofed = wooden cottages — poor enough things the most of them ; others, gaudy-looking affairs with gable ends, white faces, and windows bordered with green. AIE of these are, while I write, reflected in the wa- ter as in a mirror, for there is net a breath of wind. Over the islands on my left are seen more islands ewtending out to sea. On the right tower up the blue hills of the interior of old Norway, and although the weather is ex~ cessively hot, many of these are covered with snow. Everything is light, and transparentand thin, and blue, and glassy, and fairy-like and magically beautiful, and altogether delightful! There ; have you made much of allthat? good reader. If you have, be thankful, for, as I set out by saying, description of scenery- (at least to any good purpose) is impossible. The description of a man, however, is qulte another thing. Here is -our pilot. He is a rugged man, with fair hair, and a yellow face: and a clay coloured chin, anda red nose, He is small in stature, and thin, insignificant in appearance, deeply miserable in aspect. His garments are black glazed oil-cloth from head to foot. and immensely too large for him, es- pecially the vest, which is double-breasted and. seems to think that the trousers are nota suf | ficient covering for such a pair of brittle-look- ing legs, for it extends at least half way dowm to his knees. The flap of his sou’-wester, also, comes half way down his back. He is a wonderful object to look upon ; yet he has the audacity (so it seems to me) to take us in charge, and our captain has the foolhardiness to allow him. 5th If one goes out of the beaten track of ‘routes * in Norway one is apt to get into dif- ficulties of aminor kind. I happen tobe tray- elling just. now with a party of four friends, of whom three are ladies, the fourth a jolly young fellow fresh from eollege. A few days ago we had ufew unusual experiences—even for orway. On leaving Bergen we had made up our minds, as the steamer did not sail to within about sixty miles of our destination, to get ourselves and our luggage put down at a small hamlet at the mouth of the Nord-fjord, and there engage two large boats to transport us. the remaining sixty miles up the fjord. The ladies of our party valorously resolved to sit up all night to see the magnificent island. scenery through which we were passing under the influence of the charming and subdued day- light of midnight—for there is no night here just now. ; ? As for myself, being an old traveller, I have become aware that sleep is essential to a com- fortable and useful existence. pai cete oS my friends good-night, took a farewell look at the bright sky, and the islands, and the sleep- ing sea, and went below to bed. ze Next. day we spent steaming along the island coast, : lop Rory At one o’clock on the following morning we reached Moldeoen, where the steamer landed us on a rock on which were a few acres of grass and a half-a-dozen wooden houses. We had a good deal of luggage with us, also some casks, cases, and barrels of provisions, anda piano- forte, as our place of sojourn is somewhat out of the way and far removed from civilized mare _ kets, A few poverty-stricken natives stood om the rude stone pier as we landed, and slowly assisted us to unload. At the time I ‘sonesivet ; that the idiotical expression of their counten- ances was the result of being roused at untimel; ~ to change my mind in regard to th
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~ ADVENTURES IN NORWAY, In half an hour the steamer puffed away into | do the work of a man when he could not keep . the mysterious depths of one of the dark-blue | his eyes open. fjords, and we were left on a desolate island, | like Robinson Crusoe, with our worldly goods around us. Mostof the natives we found so stupid that they could not understand our ex- cellent Norse! One fellow, in particular, might as well have been a piece of mahogany as a! man. He stood looking at me with stolid im- becility while I was talking to him, and made no reply when 1 had done. In fact the motion of his eyes, as he looked at me, alone betrayed the fact that he was flesh and blood. We soon found that two boats were not to be had; that almost all the men of the place were away deep-sea fishing, and would not be back for many hours, and that when they did come back they would be so tired as to require at least half-a-day’s rest ere they could undertake s0 long a journey with us. However, they sent # man off in a boat to search for as many boat- amen as could befound. He was away an hour. During this period the few inhabitants who had turned out to see the steamer disappeared, and we were left alone.on the beach. There was no’ inn here; no one cared for us; every lace seemed dirty, with the exception of one Eeaaas, which had a very lonely and deserted aspect, so we did not venture to disturb it, In the course of time the messenger returned. No men were to be found except three. This ‘was not a sufficient crew for even one large Ddoat—we required to man two. A feeling that we were homeless wanderers came over us now, and each seating himself or herself on a box or a portmanteau, began to meditate. Seeing this, the three men coolly Jay down to rest in the bow of their boat, and drawing a sail over them, were quickly sound eep. The act suggested the idea that we could not | do better, and might do worse; we therefore placed two portmanteaus end to end, and thus made a couch about six feet long. A box, somewhat higher, placed at one end, served for a pillow, and on this one of the ladies lay down, flat on her back of course, that being the only possible position under the circum- stances. A shawl was thrown over her, and she went to sleep like an effigy on a tombstone. Another of the ladies tried a similar couch ; but as boxes of equal height could not be found, her position was not enviable. The thirdlady preferred an uneasy posture among When our third hour began, I saw that he was fast asleep at the oar—lifting it indeed and droppiug it in proper time, but without pulling the weight of an ounce upon it. I therefore took it from him, and told him | to take half-an-hour’s nap, when I would wake him up, and expect him to take the pair of oars | and give me a rest. On being relieved he dropped his head ona sugar cask, and was sound asleep in two min- utes! I now felt drearily dismal. I began to real- ize the fact that we had actually pledged our- selves to work without intermission for the next eighteen or twenty hours, of which two only had run, and I felt sensations akin to what must have been those of the galley-slaves of old. Inthe midst of many deep thoughts and cogitations, during that silent morning | PO hour, when all were asleep around me save the three mechanical looking boatmen, and when the only sounds that met my ears were the dip of the oars and the deep breathing (to give it no other name) of the slumberers—in the midst of many deep thoughts, I say, I came to the conclusion that in my present circumstances the worst thing I could do was to think / I re- membered the fable of the pendulum that be- came so horrified at the thought of the ticks it had to perform in a lengthened period of time, that it stopped in despair; therefore I deter- mined to ‘‘shut down” my intellect: Soon after, my shoulders began to ache, and in process of time I felt a sensation about- the small of my back that induced the alarming be- lief that the spinal marrow was boiling. ently my wrists became cramped, and I felt a strong inclination to pitch the oars overboard, lie down in the bottom of the boat, and howl! But feeling that this would be unmanly, I re- strained myself. Just then my companion in sorrow began to snore; so I awoke him, and— giving him the oars—went to sleep. From this period everything inthe history of that remarkable day became unconnected, ha- zy and confusing. I became to some extent mechanical in my thoughts and actions. I rowed and rested and rowed again; I ate, and sang, and even laughed. _My comrade did the same, like a true Briton, for he was game to the back-bone. Butthe one great, grand, never- changing idea in the day was—pull—pull— ! the ribs and cordage of the boat, and I lay | pull down on the paving-stones of the quay, hay- ing found from experience that in the matter of beds flatness is the most indispensable of qualities, while hardness is not so awful as one I “might suppose. Where my comrade the col- legian went to, I know not. z Presently one of the ladies got up and said that this would never do; that the next day was Sunday, and that we were in duty bound to do our best to reach the end of our journey on Saturday night. Thus admonished, my | comrade and I started up and resolved to be- eome ‘‘men,” that is, to act as boatmen. No | sooner said than done. We roused the three sleepers, embarked the most important half of Sas tugged : left the other half in charge of the native with the idiotic countenance, with directions to take care of it and have it for- warded as soon as possible, and, at a little after two in the morning, pulled vigorously away from the inhospitable shores of the Moldeoen, __We started on our sixty miles’ journey hope- fally, and went on our way for an hour or so - with spirit. But when two hours had elapsed, _ my companion and I began to feel the effects of rowing with unaccustomed muscles rather _ severely, and gazed with envy at the three la- dies who lay coiled pia an indescribable heap ef shawls and crinolines in the stern of the _ boat sound asleep. They needed sleep, poor things, not having rested for two days and two nights. < _ But my comrade was more to be pitied than Seaviis scorned to follow my example d te heen Be coe get the chance, he. it unexpect hims bee aaR Ss 2 : : . ae ie . fe Ste5), ee | me in similarly unpropitious circumstances, be- gan to snore in less thanfive minutes after he. ctedly called on to | of our journeying. We had hoped during the course of that da: to procure assistance, but we were unsuccessf: We passed a number of fisherman’s huts, but none of the men would consent to embark with us. At last, late that night, we reached a small farm about two-thirds the way up the fjord, whereswe succeeded in procuring another large boat with a crew of five men. Here, also, we obtained a cup of coffee; and while we were awaiting the arrival of the boat I lay down on the pier and had a short nap. None but those who have toiled for it can fully appreciate the blessing of repose. It was a clear, calm night when we resumed our pdoat journey. The soft daylight threw a species of magical effect over the great mountains and the glassy fjord, as we rowed away with steady and vigorous strokes, and Ilay down in the bow of the boat to sleep. The end of the mast squeezed my shoulder; the edge of a cask of beef, well- nigh stove in my ribs; the corner of a box bored a hole in the nape of my neck—yet I went off like one of the famed Seven Sleepers, and my friend, although stretched out beside lay down. The last sounds I heard before falling into a state of oblivion were the voices of our fair companions joined in the most beautiful of our sacred melodies the ‘Evening Hymn,” ere they lay down to rest in the stern of the boat. Next morning at niné we arrived at the to the fjord, and at the end, fora time at “ae ut : % . a, Saag “4 of | yesterday. ae Sa errs PART it I renate what was a peculiar day in my ex- perience of salmon-fishing in Norway. ; The day was dull wheu I set out for the river, seven miles distant, in a small boat, with a Norseman. <A seven miles’ pull was not a good beginning, to a day’s salmon-fishizig, the — weight of my rod being quite sufficient to try the arms without'that ; but there was no help for it. Arrivedthere I got a native, named Anders, to carry the bag and gaff. ted Anders is a fair youth, with a mild counten- ance and a turned-up nose, addicted to going about with his mouth open. ‘* Good weather for fishing, Anders,” said I, in Norse. ‘Ya,’ said he ‘‘megit god” (very good). : This was the extent of our conversation at that time, for we came suddenly on the first olin the river; and 1 soon perceived that although the weather was good enough, the river was so flooded as to be scarcely fishable. And now began a series of petty misfortunes that gradually reduced me to a state of misery which was destined to continue throughout the greater part of the day. But Hope told me flattering tales—not to say stories—for a con siderable time; and it was not until I had fished the third pool without seeing a fin, that my heart began fairly to sink. The day too, had changed from a cloudy to a rainy one, and Anders’ nose began to droop, while his face elongated visibly. Feeling much depressed, I sat down on a wet stone, in my wet garments, and iunched off a moist biscuit, a piece of tongue, and a rump of cheese, This was consoling, as far as it went, but it did not go far. Ihe misty clouds ob-— literated the mountains, the rain drizzled from the skies, percolated through the brim of my hat, trincled down my nose, and dropped upon my luncheon, ** Now we shall said I. 5 Anders assented, as ne would have done had I proposed going down the river, or across the river, or anywhere in the wide world , for, as I said it in English, he did not understand me Evidently he did not care whether he under-. stood me or not! ’ : i a the river they went, to the oést pool in it. The place was a torrent—unfishable—so deep that 1 could not wade in far enough to cast over the spot where fish are wont to lie. In making a desperate effort to get far in, ¥ went over the boot tops, and my fegs and feet, which had hitherto been dry, had ummediate — cause to sympathize with the test of my per- son. =) Anders’s face became longer than ever. All — the best pools in the river weretmed, but with- out success, and at last, towards evening, we turned to retrace our steps down the valley. — On the way I took another cast into the best — pool—going deeper than the waist into the — water in order to cast over the ‘right spot.’ The effort was rewarded. I hooked a fish and — made for the bank as fast as possible. My iegs were like solid’ pillars, or enormous sausages, by reason of the long boots being full ~ to bursting with water. To walk was difficult, — to run, in the event of the fish requiring me ~ to do so, im ible, i therefore tay down on the bank iat tossed both 1egs in the air to let the water run out— holding on to the fish th while. The water did run out—it did more; — it ran right aiong my backbone to the nape of — my neck, completing the saturation whi the — rain had hitherto failed to accomplish. Buti had hooked a fish, and heeded it not. 2 He was a small one: only ten eo : we got him out quickly and without mi trouble. Yet this isnotalways the case. fish are often the most opstreperous an sort Pon hleme. i Bier only last week # hooked and tanded a twenty-eight Pp Sq salmon, and he did not give n half that 1 experienced from one ¥ augh' Well, having bagged him 3° ward. go up the river, Anders,” =
Page 30
30 PLAYING TH GHOST, my own spirits began to improve. At another oa I tried again, and almost at the first cast cooked on an eighteen pounder, which Anders gaffed after about twenty minutes’ play. i We felt quite jolly now, although it rained _ harder than ever, and we went om our way re- joicing—Anders’s countenance: reduced to its _ Raturally short proportions. Presently we came to an old weir—an erec- tion for catching fish, as they ascend the river— where lay one of our favorite pools. The water was running down it like a mill-race. Pent up by’.the artificial dyke, the whole river in this: place gushed down \in a _ turbulent rapid. There was one compara- ~ tively smooth bit of water, which looked _unpromising enough, but being in hopeful spirits now, I resolved on a final cast. About the third cast a small trout rose.at the fly.. The greedy little monsters have a tendeney to do ' this, Many a small trout have I hooked»with a salmon. fly as large as its own head. Before 1 could draw the line to cast again, the usual heavy waudle. of a salmon occurred near the fly. _ It was followed by the whirr of the reel as the line flew out like lightning, sawing right through the skin of my fingers (which by the way, are now So seamed. and scarred that writ- a neither so easy. nor so pleasant as it used tobe). The burst that now ensued was sudden and tremendous! The. salmon flashed across the pool, then up the pool, then down the pool. It was evidently bent on mischief. _My heart mis- gave me, for the place was. a bad one—all full - of stumps and stones, with.the furious rapid before mentioned just below, and the rough un- steady stones of the old dyke as an uncertain pathway soigallop over should the fish go down - theriver. Lheld. on stoutly for.a few seconds as he neared the head of the rapid, but there .isa limit to the endurance of rods and tackle, |: What made the matter worse was that the dyke ‘on which I stood.terminated in; a small island, to get from which to the shore: necessitated, swimming; and if he should go down the: big rapid there. was. little chance of. his stopping until he should reach the foot of it—far below this island. : Allat once he turned tail and went down head. first. Ilet the line fly now, keeping my fingers well clear of it. a -“ He’s off, Anders!” I shouted, as I took to - my heels at full speed. > FTurroo—hoo—oo !” yelled the Norseman, ‘flying after me with the gaff. : How I managed to keep ‘my footing in _ the rush over the broken dyke I know not. It is a marvel to me. The bushes on the island overhung the water, the earth haying ~ been cit away by the force of the rapid. I - tried to pull up, because they were too thick to crash through; but tlie fish willedit otherwise. The line was getting low on the reel; the rod bent double; presently I had to straighten it out—in another moment I was in the water, _ oyer the boots, which filled, of coutse, in a mo- ment. But this did not impede’me as long as _Iwasin deep water. “Iwas forsaken at this point by Anders, who sought and found a safe passage to the main- land, where he stood gazing at me with his eyes blazing and his mouth wide open. Isoon reached the end of the island, to my horror, for I had not previously taken particu- lar note of the formation of the land there. A gulf of water of five or six yards broad of unknown depth lay between me and that shore, _ should have followed my fish as far as he chose. “Phe rapid. itself looked less tremendous than by which in the natural course of things I} this deep black hole. I hesitated, but the sal- | teen pounds, borne pleasantly along on _ tip-toe as light as one of those beautiful balls with which juveniles—in these highly favored days—are wont to sport in the fields! And oh-~ho—o! how my spirit seemed to gush out through my mouth and nose, or out at the top of my head, when the cold water en- circled my neck as I lost my footing nltogether, and struck out with my right hand, endeavor- ing the while to support my rod in the left! I heard Anders gasp at this) point; but I saw him not. Inanother second my knees came into violent contact with a rock (alas! every motion of my body, as 1 now write, reminds me painfully of that crash!) Immediately. after this I was sprawling up the bank, having handed the rod to Anders to hold, while I toss- ed my legs again in the air, to get rid, of the water which weighed me down like lead, How earnestly I wished that I could tear these boots off and fling them away. But there was no time for that. On regaining my legs I seized the rod, and found that. the salmon had brought up in an eddy created by the tail of a gravel- bank in the centre of the river between two rapids. “Good,” I gasped, blandly. Anders smiled. Presently [found that it was the reverse of good, for, when I tried to wind in the line and move the fish, I perceived that the resistance offered was not, Tito that of.a salmon, but a stump ! ‘*T do believe he’s gone'” I exclaimed, Anders became grave. ‘*No fish there,” said I gloomily, Anders’ face elongated. ‘*He has wound the line round a stump, and broken off,” said I, in despair. Woe, of the deepest profoundity, was de- picted on Anders’ visage ! For full five minutes I tried every. imagin- able device, short of breaking the rod, to clear the line—in vain. Then I gave the rod to Anders to hold, and, taking the gaff with me, 1 went sulkily up the river, and again taking to the water, made my way to the head of the gravel bank- over which ‘I walked slowly, oppressed in spirit, and weighed ‘down by those abominable boots which had once more filled to overflowing! Waterproof boots are worse than useless for this sort of work,’ But happily this is not the usual style ‘of thing that one experiences in Norwegian fishing. It if only occasionally that one enjoys a treat of the kind. : In the middle of ‘the gravel-bank the water was only three inches deep, 80 I lay down on my back and once again elevating’ ny ponder- ous legs in the air, allowed a cataract of water to flow over me. . Somewhat lightened, I. advanced into the ~ hole. t ‘was deeper than I had expected, I was up tosthe middle in a moment, and sighed as I thought of the boots—full again! Before I reached the linethe water was up to my shoulders ; but it was the still water of the eddy. I soon caught the line and found that it was round a stump, as I had feared. With a heayy heart I eased it off—when.lo!l.a tug. sent an electric shock through my benumbed body, and I saw the salmon not three yards off, at. the bottom ofthe pool! He also saw me, and, darting in terror from side to side, wound the line round it I ST SS a Sa SE SRS STI NIT SS EE the fingers of my loft | knees, crammed and gills, and held ‘hand into his mouth him: down while I terminated his career with a stone. Thereafter I fixed the hook more securely in his jaw, and launching | him into the rapid, left Anders to haul hiny out, while Imade the best of my way: to the | shore. ; This is‘about the roughest experience I haye yet had of salmon fishing in. Norway. The season of this year bids fair to be a pret- ty good one. Ihave had about twelve days’ fishing, and have caught sixteen fish, weighing together two hundred and seventy-six pounds, two of them being twenty-eight pounders. oe Qt | Playing the Ghost. Gazrren Sxose was seated astraddle of a log, at the end of which was a hollow stump, out of which he had just taken a gallon jug. Extracting a corn cob from the mouth of the. jug, he glued his lips to the orifice from whence the cob had been taken, elevated the jug, threw ~ his head back, and, with his gaze directed hea- venward, and his thoughts fixed on the ¢ross- roads grocery from whence the nectar had been obtained, allowed a portion of the precious con- tents of the jugto gurgle down his throat. |B a ee pm ARS See Having reached the utmost limits of his in- ternal arrangements for receiving and contain- - ing liquids, without, however, in the least ap-— peasing his appetite, he lowered his jug, and; inserting the cob in the mouth, replacedit in the - hollow stump, and, covering it with leaves, re- ~ sumed his seat on the log, and soliloquised. thusly : ‘Ef Jim Peters thinks I’m gwine to let him and Suze marry he’s mighty mistaken, I’dlike : , to know how Bets and me and the children ~ would git along without old Brindle. We'd — .btarve ; that’s what we’d do.” — Old Brindle, as Shobe called her, though she was oniy six years old, had, when a calf, been given to his daughter Susan by one of her un- cles, with the express understanding that it , was to be hers, and hers only, to do*with as she pleased, The calf had grown to milk and butter formed about Shobe’s family, Jim Peters was a school-teacher, who divi- ded his time about equally between teaching ~ school, loafing around Bill Stickney’s grocery, — and hunting and fishing. \ rp ete ‘The onery cuss,” continued Shobe; ‘‘he's — afraid to show his face in daylight, and so he comes a-sneakin’ around in the night. ‘Beard uv ghosts, too. Wish I had.a lookin’-glass here ~ to see what sort uy a ghost I’d make.” ~ Ae And picking up,a sheet that he had brought ~ with him, he wrapped it around him in the — most approved ghost style. * ‘‘T guess I'll make a bully old ghost in the — dark,” said he; and, resuming his seat on the ° log in his ghostly attire, he awaited the ap- proach of darkness, which was now near at. ~ be a fine cow, whose | half the living of ~ rae
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3 | PLAYING THE GHOS?-. Bu: near the road, or pier pathway, along which | which Shobe was so gracefully though some-; On being thus bronght face to face with the: he expected his prospective, though undesired, son-in-law to pass, he waited with most exem- lary patience the arrival of that interesting in- ividual for the space of perhaps two minutes and a half. ; At the end of that time his patience being nearly, and his legs quite, exhausted, he eased himself down to a sitting posture, his back being still against the tree, in which position ho remained for another two minutes and a half, when his patience and backbone being both ex- hausted, his head dropped over to one side, his body in a state of limpness followed in the di- eget of the head, and the next moment Ga- bbricl Shobe was reclining on the ground, from Which, and immediately under him, some half- dozen short stubs projected. ) Scarcely had hestruck the ground when he was asleep, and snoring with an energy in biriking contrast to that usually displayed by tim in the ordinary avocations of life, the jound whereof could only be compared to the ombined efforts of half a dozen hand-saws ipping their way crosswise through as many boar )'This music was not allowed to waste its eotness on the desert air for many minutes _jefore the footsteps of an approaching auditor , ere arrested by the sound. ' | “What's Shat?” whispered Jim Peters to imself, as he came to a sudden halt, whilea _ ‘reeping sensation pervaded his body. | Peering into the darkness, he discovered a white-looking object lying at the root of a tree some twenty yards in front oi nim, from which the sounds evidently emanated. ‘Spellbound, he stood rooted to the spot, his . hair bristling, his flesh creeping, and his knees smiting together, About this time the stubs on the points of » ‘ ; what uncomfortably reclining, were beginning to give color to his dreams. ; He dreamed that he was in the infernal regions, and while engaged in the discussion of some grave theological subject with his satanic majesty, a little demon came at him with 4 red-hot pitchfork. Springing to his feet with an unearthly yell, that sundered the bonds of Jim Peters’ en- chantmené and unrooted his feet from the the terrified pedagogue wheeled to the right-about, and broke for home with the speed of the wind, Shobe, smarting from the wounds of the imaginary pitchfork, and fearing another thrust, started full tiltin the same direction. Catching sight of the sheet which, fastened around his neck, was streaming in the wind behind, and forgetful of the fact of his having arrayed himself as a ghost previous to his descent to the regions below, the apparition lent fear to the already terror-stricken Shobe, and he fairly flew. Away went Peters, with an unearthly creat- ure of some sort in his wake; and away went Shobe, with a legion of demons, as he im- agined, in his rear. Peters, in. going down the slant of a hill, stubbed his toe, and, falling forward about twenty feet, fainted as he stugick the ground. Shobe, blowing like a porpoise, lumbered past with slightly diminished speed, but with fright aggravated, if possible, by the persistence of his imaginary: pursuers, Presently, his speed diminished to such a degree that the sheet, no. longer retaining its horizontal position, caught on alimb of a fallen tree in such @ way as not only to arrest his on- ward career, but to jork him round with his face in the direction of his imaginary pur- suers, , [THE END. ] sheet, the recollection flashed upon his mind at- : once as to how it came to be attached to him, and the ludicrousness of the idea of his getting- so badly scared at what he had intended to- frighten another with, caused him to explode in a perfect volley of shouts ef the most uproar- ious laughter. Wrapping the sheet around him, he started homeward, and had proceeded but a short dis-- tance when Jim Peters, recovered from his: swoon, hove in sight, 2 a4 -% 8 8-8 4 a 28 we Papoose te net 3 ah ewyect.. | approaching in the opposite direction, Peters: took to the woods, when Shobe with a demon- jac yell, ran after him, But while fear lent. wines to Peter's heels, the want of that stimulus: on Shobe's part enabled the frightened peda gogue to distance his pursuer, who presently- gave up the chase and went home, not forget- ting to visit the hollow stump on the way, im order to satisfy himself that the jug had not: been disturbed in his absence. * pone = 2 Sunrise next morning found Peter with his: worldly possessions done up in a handkerchief, wending his way in the direction of the setting: sun, ‘ The most authentic accounts we have of him: since then are to the effect that, after serving: a session in the Legislature in one of the wést~ ern states, he was sent to the penitentiary for- stealing horses. After serving out his time in the penitentiary’ he practised medicine awhile; then drove’ a. | coach; and at the a time is a resident of Utah, where, with half a dozen slab-sided, lan- tern-jawed ween hung to his skirts, he ham every reason in the world for wishing himeelf back in the penitentiary again, , ‘ How TO DO TRICK: £2) The - f of magic and card tricks, containing full instruction of "all thy eading card tricks of the day, also the most popular Magivai illusions as performed by our leading magiciains; every ene m a copy, #8 it will both amuse and in- struct. For sale by all newsdealers, or sent postage free on receipt of 10 cents. Address Frank Tousey, 13 lisher, 34 and 36 North Moore street, New York, Box 2730... - (BES ee SE EEE IEE DES TPR SHORTING! SNAPS only 10 cents. The funmest hook of its kind eyer published. Containing bide-split~ ting jokes from the Shortys. Do not fail to buy it. For sale by all newsdealers, or sent to your address, post paid, on receipt. of 10 cents. Address Frank Tousey, per nberten, 34 and 36 North Moore street, New York, Box 2730. _ H W TO BECOME BEAUTIFUL.—One of the ightest and most valuable little books ever given to the world: Everybody wishes to know how to, become beau- tifal, both male and female. .The secret is simple, most costiess, Read this book and be.convinced. “ How to Become Beautiful.”’. Price 10 cents. For sale by book and newsdealers, or send 10 cents to Frank Tousey, 34 and 36 North Moore st., N. Y., and it will be mailed to your ad- dress post-paid: only 10 cents. and al- ‘3 ‘ Tew and elegant the. life of the above ose. who have read his laugh- G SN OF AMERICA will be pleased to have a look into, his private iife. ‘The book is large (con pal 64 pages), and prettily& bound, having a portrait of the author on the cover. Hyery¥body wants one. Don’t fail a ar vone Emp waaaloe ue copy}. a 10 bente Hor re Pp 5s rs, or address Myran ‘ouse: ublisher, F and 36 North Moore street, New York, P.O. Box 213) ee tN ty N THE STAGE: or, HOV Tanti 4 Oleh valuable book fo Beda att eto é e 1 1 esire y begin 1 also NEGRO AOTS, y} is, mee ie the on, Fite LIFE OF TOM TEASER.—) : ook has just been publishedus well known comic author. 'T’ able stories in the YouNc M rofessi IRISH ACT ‘A= Cie SSE CHER BON CS SRUTCEE AGES, DIA. For sale by all nowsdealers, or sent from\\+his office on receipt of pes 1s cents. Frank ‘Tousey, 34 an ee North Moore ) street. Box 273:, New York. | TOW TO DO 1T.—It is a grest life se oe BE ee! oung man Reng know al guestlist - Tousey, Rose street, New Nork, published a book that Gihadl Pitre haan rat atest | Hbdre street, N.Y. Box see 6 predate: “is and of Uys’ OUST .— iy |. ligent boy rend by at practical eR eer Ahting multitudes every night with pre ‘won= | Berta imitations), can master the art, and — te any Boal nea ae ‘How F6 Bicome & VENTRILOQUIST me all newsdenlers th Frank Tou ‘ork. P.O. Box at book » HOW TO BOX. Only 10 Cents. Only 10 Cents. THE ART OF SELF-DEFENSE MADE EASY. Containing over thirty illustrations of guards, blows, and the different positions of a good boxer. Every boy should obtain one of these useful and instructive books, as it will teach you how'to box without an instructor. HORTY’S JOKES.—-Tho funniest book ever pub-- lished is now for sale at 10 cents per copy. Contains alt: the latest gags and sovings, combined with a complete list” of jokes originated by “‘Shorty,”’ the famous “* satay man,” and “Peter Pad.” It will make the gravest of pron le shake withlaughter. Pricel0cents, Address Frank ontey, pub- Wes 34 and 36 North Moore street, New York. P.O, Bo RELAND’S STRUG new book just. issyag Robert Emmet. O’ Mahony Monies bit pola ti ne of ae ans biographi hirles Stewart Parnell, Grattan, O'Brien;. For sale by all newsdealers; or sent, post paid, on receipt atl Interesting and inseractiee Tea ea eee H pee ee! 3 Pr | byte, Rveaybody aioe baton’ itu hat Rode Se Be ry body sho: ave one, ‘ FRANK TOUSEY, BP Plisher, punlianer, and 36 North Moore street, New. pred “Boe Box 2730. pee North Moore St., N. Y. ae : ** EJ OW TO DANCE ?? is tie titt hand- A] ° O ENTERTAIN AN EVENING PA TY H some little book just ieee ts % mK Seine Te: 8 the title of rehed: a very valuable little book just A complete Grawingerdom entertainment. money than any book published. or send 10 cents to Frank Tousey, paid. ub § . D compendium of games, sports, card- diversions, comic recreations, ete., suitable for parlor or Tt contains more for the Bold by oN pewsdcalers, ublisher, 34 and ¢ ort! Moore street, New York, and peceye it by return mail, post- epetaies full instraoblone in BO art of fies it ~room ond at parties, how to dress, t irec™ tions for calling off in all popular square ae The ones is 10. cents. For sale by newsdealers, or sent from this on receipt of price, postage free. Address Fr. pophetiery 84 and 36 North Moore street, Nc Bich a cing, etiquette im N ow LAUCH Tw» !* The Life of * Ed idk Every i HE LIF E OF LICE CAP T ‘AIN HOWARD. sketches a blished wedily on the fourth age er the Boys Orafty m xp x oung Sleuth,” e eatin n : fideo y wed , . . “! V; ; or Nuw York. Now is your chance to obtai Harry. Hawk, i ‘Ed.’ Don’t write and ask where 10 cents, and book and portrait will id,’ ” with portrait, price 10 cents. For sale by all news- dealers, or sent, pose palc, on receipt of price. Address 1 Frank Tousey, publish: , 36.N . vos OB i er, 34 and’36 North Moore street, New yon can get it, but send yours. ‘The Life of OW TO BECOME RICH !—This wonderfif™®book. H “How to Become tick presents you with the exam- ple and life oeperionce of some of the most noted and wealthy men in the world, including the self-made men of our country. ‘The book is edited by one of the most suc- cessful men of the preseny age, whose own example is in it- self guide enough for those who aspire to fame and money. ppancenan al gsclet ttn nests eae : ers, or send price to Frank Tousey, and 36 North Moore street, New York, and. it will a mailed to you, post-paid, THE LIFE OF CORP T TLER.—The latest Ame Ona guest of many of our reade; ove well-! acknowl is’ stori inferior to none, and allne , or sent, id, drgee Phan Tota a Ener 3 hn it, New York. Box in a portrait of famous police officer and author. with portrait, price OW TO COOK. —Oiie or:the most instenctioag hooks: H on coating ever published. Ut contains soulbee to cooking meats, fish. FAT ocean ovstare; Also Dies, uddingsr- co cakes, and all’ kinds of past rs ie i . recipes by one of our mob saienee Oke Only 10 of copy. Picton by all new: pe or it will be” - on receipt. o: ice, Ii ess. Frank ‘ousey, 34nd b6 North Moca strest, Maat ae ity. oks ;DOON’S JOKES. ‘his 18 Pry es ee Sieber isher, and yaad you will re sent to your
Page 32
@51 My Friend Smith...........by Talbot Baines Reed 52 The Boy Crusoes; or, The Young Castaways of the Pacitic by St. George Katliborne #53 Jerry the Tunibler; or, The Wonder of the ne iby Corporal Morgan Rattler 854 net the Bound Boy; or, Through 100 oie of ase iy C. Little 6855 Frank Reade, “Tr, and His. Electric: vith ia by * “Noname ”? 856 The Shortys’ Christmas Snaps—comic........ by Peter Pad 657 Two vo cr. Afloat in New York......... y N. S. Wood (The Young American ‘Actor) B58 earls Phil In Disguise; or, The 'Tiger’s Last by Pan! Braddon 859 A Southern Boy in New ef or, Bound to Make His Money y H. K. Shackleford 860 Steamboat Billy; or, The State Room Secret.. “661 The Boy Lion ‘amers; or, Adventures in Africa 862 Out With Kit Garson. A Story of the Karly Days of Kansas...... by R. T. Emmet $63 The Boy Samson; or, Taking Care of Himself. by CO, Little *$64 The Boy From New York; or,.A Fight for Five Millions......... or, The Great Scout in No Man’s Land............-...by Paul Braddon — 978 The Buffalo Hunters; er, Wild Life on the MAINS. 6. seeseeeeeseeessess+-DY Robert Maynard 979 Little Tommy Bounce; or, Something Like His Dad—COmic. .. 2 ...05.+- + -0seseeee DY Peter Pad 980 The Treasure Trove; oF, The pened of the GUliscsceessee ss ath ought con{2005 Muldoon’s Grocery Store—comic, eae Deaes a Te ene Pines.” ‘AStory of New York - Tip TO} Top , Teady. t the Young Foretopman; Or. oy Zhosts, T6doon'’s Grocery Store—comic. Part en in Oe . Little } #50 Fou r Years Before the Mast-..--by d- r ee Joos Mure sort uv « — d His Monon ne the Bi 402 Satin Sam the Young Western s SPE Pant idaaon 951 Mrs, Brown's Boarding-House—Com 56 si Pea carrey Haute agheet ne id in Need.by “ Nom me! + .-by Peter Pad tors oS co 5 i fe; or, The Bra’ j $83 The White Rome eP tne sists oF oh imo Yan. «| Oe ee ee Shertf, or, The Regula! Sori me |, Airs or, Helping. ie borpora orga ater 894 ..by R, T. Emme! "Gold r, The Sailor Boy bh Lad,....-«---.bi% Silver King; or. kee Boys in Mexico........--+++ : ae Village 953 The menial Gold “Ship; o by C. Little Iris) Set ee i 1B oy er i eecvreseouecs Dan, Jr.. thy; VAUB. oc cecu ee onami Eee eae nue Deaoan Tae le boas Se Tom Teaser Ghost ite President; or, The Oak That Came 1000 Dement Lode in Ne“ wddie; or, Tle Adventures : om ee or the “Galley; or. ‘the Mystery 954 bat Bite Freaidents of, The Oak 7! hy Pater Pad) 19 six Weeks in the S2School........by R. T. Emmi Sey yer Treasure Ship.......by Percy B. St. Johm 955 General Crook’s Boy Gnide; rar ts Great ofa Boys” Riding: Flee Roy Jonesceomley g97 A Bad Egg; or, Hard to ia ena Teaser enaian Fighter’s Biack Hills ie Paut Braddon | 1011 The sre oi “ae y by Tom tonaaee 98 Two Years With a Pirate; or, The Poantom 956 Three Yankee Boys in Africa; nar A er aa ect Fivates oF, The, ‘ raiser oe _ Ship of the Gold Coast. - «°° by Tem Teaser Of te CONLO..se-eeeeseee eed Out a Rail- 1012 Black Bro vacht Club; or, Around the __-@99 Muldgon’s Boarding Horm copie Youn 961 The Boy Surveyor: oC quniry..-by John Sherm pa bars iver : Geo, se The Boy Diamond 3 OF; = F road in the Indi ae ee rites 1013 The ; euntecevics caeen all ae ‘Seyi Ohigto of New, NSM Oy irenser | 958 Rob Rounds, oe an chnb—comle, he oy Teaser | Wor Mags eerie ty oe ey; OT, i th 959 Mnle or Boye. Around the World—com ‘902 Bie armorers 500% jor, The Mystery 0% Draper | 960 iv-r-Weather Frank, the Dashing PO" My ey ag not Tip. anode ie ae . -OrStiarp SID = h Rockies,..-, 3 Trip Around the World—comic. — 303 gees Grimes; or, Sharp SKS rept aber 961 Fagle Dan the Boy Hermit of t! si Pau iL Beaadon jae Bist Senate Arata eine 6” a Tom: Tea co! ‘ hg for § deeee CET ny ao at Fred: or, The Young Swamp Hun- t, Fighting for a Fortnne n Lewis, the Pirate.. Part 11 re A oy oie Delaware. eS ae Giuidoon’s Base Ball Ciub in iostOR om feaser 1017 Fiat Bostots ane Worsliipe me ee 7 hae ford 905 Tom Quick. the Avenge’ *. Emmet ‘Million- Le F stasis iz t 05 oe By a be bap 36k Harry Horton; or, piasa poy to aS. nt Dayton 1018 Among Pera. Sais Wonave: by. a Son aa eee cecccacee DY Albert J. Booth a sy: or, The Scalp Hunter 9 Jack the PaO sstseeioes ature: Dave the Divers oF, Tie Prince Tittle sv asacerssD¥-F anh Braddon 101 soeaee senses DY C. _Bwimmters,-4s0+7°- ddress a ‘For sale by all newsdealers in the Je ahysit ok ee States and Canada, or sent to your