Evening Star Newspaper, July 13, 1895, Page 14

(Copsright, 1895, by Irving Bacheller.) CHAPTER It. (Concluded) This was all very well, and I lstened with the greatest interest, but I was none the clearer as to what young Duroc wished me to do. “How can I be of service to you?” I ask- “By coming up with me.’* - “To the castle?” 'recisely." “When?” t once.”” “But what do you intend to ao?’ “I shall know what to do. But I wish you to be with me all the same.” ~ Well, it never was in my nature to re- fuse an adventure, and, besides, I had every sympathy with the lad’s feelings. It is very easy to forgive one’s enemies, but one wishes to give them something to for- give also. I held out ‘my hand to him, therefore. “I must be on my way to Rossel tomer- row morning, but tonight I am yours,” sald We left our troopers in snug quarters and, as it was but a mile to the castle, we aid not disturb the horses. )To tell the truth, I hate to see a cavalryman walk, and I hold that just as he is the most gal- lant thing upon earth when he has his “The Baron Strauhen does not receive visitors at so late an hour” saddle flaps between his knees, so he is the most clumsy when he has to loop up ‘his saber and his saber tasche in one hand and turn in his toes for fear of catching the rowels of his spurs. Still Duroc and I were of an age when one can carry things off, and I dare swear that no woman at least would have quarreled with the appearance of the two young hussars, one in blue and one in gray, who set out that night from the Arensdorf post house. We both carried our swords, and for my own part I slipped a pistol from my holster into the inside of my pelisse, for it seemed to me that there might be some wild work for us. The track which led to the castle wound through a pitch-black firwood, where one could see nothing save the ragged patch of stors above our heads. Presently, how- ever, it opened up, and there was the cas- tle right in front of us about as far as a carbine would carry. It was a huge black place, and bore every mark of being ex- ceedingly old, with turrets at every corner and a square keep on the side which was nearest to us. In all its great shadow there was no sign of light save for a single window, and no sound came from it. To me there was something awful in its size and its silence which corresponded so well with its sinister name. My companion pressed on eagerly and I followed him along the ill-kept path which led to the gate. There was no bell or knocker. upon the great iron-studded door, and it was only by pounding with the hilts of our sabers that we covld at last attract attention. A thin, pale-faced man with a beard up to his temples opened it at last. He carried a lantern In one hand, and with the other a@ chain which held an enormous black hound. His manner at the first moment was threatening, but the sight of our uni- forms and of our faces turned it into one of sulky reserve. “The Baron Straubenthal does not re- ceive visitors at so late an hour,” said he, speaking in very excellent French. “You can inform Baron Straubenthal that I have come 800 leagues to see him, and that I will not leave until I have done so,” said my companion. I could not myself have said it with a better voice and man- ner. The fellow took a sidelong look at us and tugged at his long black beard in his perplexity. : “To tell the truth, gentlemen,” sald he. “The baron has a cup or two of wine in him at this hour and you Would certainly find him a mose entertaining companion if you were to come again in the morning.” Fite had opened the door a little wider as he spoke and I saw by the light of the lamp tn the hall behind him that three other rough fellows were standing there, one of whom held another of these moi strous hounds. Duroc must have seen it also, but it made no difference to his reso- lation. “Enough talk,” said he, pushing the man to one side. “It is with your master that I have to deal.” The fellows in the hall made way for him as he strode in among them, so great is the power of one man who knows what he wants over several who are not sure of themselves. My companion tapped one of them on the shoulder with as much as- surance us though he owned him. “Show me to the baron,” said he. The man shrugged his shoulders and an- gwered something in Polish. The fellow with the beard who had shut and barred the front door appeared to be the only one among them who could speak French. “Well, you shall have your way,” said he, with ‘a sinister smile. “You shall see the baron. And perhaps before you have finished you will wish that you had taken my advice.” We followed him down the hall, which was stone flagged and very spacious, with upon tke floor, skins scattered and the And Facing Us There Sat a Huge Man. heads of wild beasts upon the walls. At the further end he threw open a door and we entered. It was a small room, scantily furnished, with the same marks of neglect and decay which met us at every turn. The walls were hung with discolored tapestry, which had come loose at one corner, so as to expose the rough stone wall behind. A second door hung with a curtain faced us upon the other side. Between lay a square table strewn with dirty dishes and the sordid remains of a meal. Several bot- tles were scattered: over it. At the head of it facing us there sat_a huge man with a Hon-like head and a great shock of orange- colored hair. His beard was of the same glaring hue, matted and tangled and coarse as a horse's mane. I have seen some strange faccs in my time, but never one more-brutal than that with its small eyes, its white crumpled cheeks, and the thick, hanging lip, which protruded over his monstrous beard. His head swayed about on his shoulders, and he looked at us with the vague, dim gaze of a drunken man. Yet he was not so drunk but that our uniforms carried their message to him. «Well, my brave boys,” he hiccoughed, ‘what is the latest news from Paris—eh? you're going to free Poland, I hear, and have meantime all become slaves to your- Selves, slaves to a little autocrat with his gray coat and three-cornered hat. No more citizens, either, I am told, and notk- ing but monsieur and madam. My faithy some more heads will have to roll into the Sawdust basket some of these mornings.” Duree advanced in silence and stood by the ruffian’s side. “Jean Carabin,” said he. The baron started, and the film of drunk- enness seemed to be clearing from his eyes. SS “Jean Carabin,” said Duroc once more. Pos sat up and grasped the arms of his ir. “What do you mean by repeating that name, young man?” he asked. “Jean Carabin, you are a man whom I long wished to meet.” “Supposing that I had once such a name, how can it concern you, since you must have been a child when I bore it?” “My name is Duroc.” “Not the sqn of ” “The son of the man you murdered.” The baron tried to laugh, but there was terror in his eyes. “We must let by-gones be by-gones, yourg man,” he cried. “It was our life or theirs in those days, the aristocrats or the people. Your father was of the Gironde. He fell. I was of the mountain. Most of my comrades fell. It was all the fortune of war. We must forget all this and learn to know each other better, you .and I.” He Ege out a red, twitching hand as he spoke.” “Enough,” cried young Duroc. “If I were to pass my saber through you as you sit in that chair I should do what ts right ang just. I dishonor my blade by crossing {t with yours, And yet you are a French- man and have even held a commission un- der the same flag as myself. Rise then and defend yourself!” t is all “Tut, tut!’ cried the baron. ‘ very well for you young blogds- ° Duroc’s patience could stand it no more. He swung his open hand into the great crange beard. I saw a lip fringed with blood, and two glaring blue eyes above it. “You shall dle for that blow.” “That is better,” said Duroc. “My saber,” cried the other. “I will not keep you waiting, I promise you!” and he hurried from the room. CHAPTER IV. I have said that there was a second dour covered with a curtain. Hardly had the baron vanished than there ran from be- hind it a woman, young and beautiful. So swiftly and noiselessly did she move that she was between us in an Instant, and it was only the“shaking curtains which told us whence she had come. “I have seen it all,” she cried. “Oh, sir, you have carried yourself splendidly.” She Stcoped to my companion’s hand and kiss- ed it again and again ere he could disen- gage it from her grasp. “Nay, madame, why should you kiss my hand?” he cried. “Because it+is the hand which struck him on the vile, iying mouth. Because it may be the hand which will avenge my mother. I am his stepdaughter. The woman whose heart he broke was my mother. I loathe him. I fear him. Ah, there is his step!” In an instant she had vanished as suddenly as she had come. A moment later the baron entered with a drawn sword in his hand and the fellow who had admitted us at his heels. “This is my secretary,” said he. “He will be my friend in this affair. But we shall need more elbow room than we can find here. Perhaps you will kindly come with me to a more spacious apartment.” It was evidently impossible to fight in a chamber which was blocked by a great table. We followed him out, therefore, into the dimly lit hall. At the further end a light was shining through an open door. “We shall find what we want in here,” said the man with the dark beard. tt was a large, empty room, with rows of barrels and cases around the walls. A strong lamp stood upon a shelf in the cor- ner. The ficor was level and true, so that no swordsman could ask for more. Duroc drew his saber and sprang into it. The baron stood back with a bow and motioned me to follow my companion. Hardly were ‘We Were Taken in a Trap. my heels over the threshold when the heavy door crashed behind me, and the key screamed in the lock. We were taken in a trap. For a moment we could not realize it. Such incredible baseness was outside of all our experience. Then, as we under- stood how foolish we had been to trust for an instant a man with such a history, a flush of rage came over us, rage against his viliainy and against our own stupidity. ‘We rushed at the door together, beating it with our fists, and kicking it with our heavy boots. ‘The sounds of our blows and of our execrations must haye resound- ed through the castle. We called to this villain, hurling at him every name which might pierce even into his hardened soul. But the docr was enormous—such a door as one finds in medieval castles—made of huge beams clamped together with irons. It was as easy to break as a square of the old guard. And our cries appeared to be of as little avafl as our blows, as they enly brought for answer the clattering echoes from the high roof above us, When you have done some soldiering you soon learn to put up with what cannot be al- tered. It was I, then, who first recovered my~ calmness, and prevailed upon Duroc to join with me in examining the apart- ment which had become our dungeon. There was only one window, which had ro glass in it, and was so narrow that one could not sc much as get one’s head through. It was high up, and Duroc had ee stand upon a barrel in order to see from “Firwoods and an avenue of snow be- tween them,” said he. “Ah!” he gave a cry of surprise. I sprang upon the barrel beside him. There wes, as he said, a long clear strip of snow in front. A man was riding down it, flogging his horse and galloping like a an. AS We watched he grew smalier end smaller, until he was swallowed up by the black shadows of the forest. “What does that mean?” asked Duroc. “No good for us,” said I. “He may have gene for some brigands to cut our throats. Let us see if we cannot find a way out of this moucetrap before the cat can arrive.” The one piece of good fortune tn our favor was that beautiful lamp. It was nearly full of oll, and would last us until morn‘ng. In the dark our situation would have been much more difficult. By its ght we proceeded to examine ‘he pack- sges and cases which lined the walls. In some places there was only a single line <f them, while in one corner they ‘were piled nearly to the ceiling. It seemed that we were in the storehouse of the castle, for there was a great number of cheeses, vegetables of various kinds, bins full of dried fruits and a liné of wine bar- rels. One of these had a spigot in it, and as I had eaten little during the day, I was THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JULY 13, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. glad of 2 cup of claret and some food. As to Duroc, he would take nothing, but passed up and down the room in a fever of anger and impatience. “I'll have him yet,” he cried, every now and then. “The rascal shall not escape me.” This was all very well, but it seemed to me as I sat on a great round cheese eat- ing my supper that this youngster was thinking rather too much of his family affairs and too little of the fine scrape into which he had got me. After all, his father had been dead fourteen years, and nothing could set that right, bu: there was Etienne Gerard, the most dashing lieutenant in the whole Grand Army, in imrfinent danger of being cut off at the very outset of his brilliant career. Who was ever to know the heights to which I might have risen if I were knocked in the head in this hole and corner business, which had nothing whatever to do with France or the em- ror? I could not help thinking what a ‘col I had been when I had a fine war before me, and everything which a man could desire, to go off on a hare-brained expedition of this sort, as if it were not enough to have a quarter of a million Russians to fight against without plunging into all sorts of private quarrels as well. “That is all very well,” I said at last, as I heard Duroc muttering his threats. “You may do what you like to him when you get the upper hand. At present the ne sore rather is what is he going to do 32” ‘Let him do his worst!’ cried the boy. ‘I owe a duty to my father.” “That is mere foolishness,” said I. “If you owe a duty to your father I owe one to my mother, which is to get out of this business safe and sound.” My remarks brought him to his senses. “I have thought too much of myself!” he cried. “Forgive me, Monsieur Gerard. SAS) me your advice as to what I should lo. “Well,” said I, “it is not for our health that they har» shut us up here among the cheeses. Th; mean to make an end of us if they can.- That is certain. They Ihcpe that no one knows that we have “Quick, quick,” Cried a Woman's Voiee. come here, and that none will trace us if we remain. Do your hussars know where you have gone to?” “I said nothing. “Hum! It is clear that we cannot he starved here. They must come to us if they are to kill us. Behind a barricade of barrels we could hold our own against the five rascals whom we have seen. That is probably why they have sent that mes- senger for assistance.” “We must get out before he returns. “Precisely, if we are to get out at all. “Could we not burn down this door?” he cried. “Nothing could be easier,” said I. “There are several casks of oil in the cor- ner. My only objection is that we should ourselves be nicely toasted, like two lttle oyster patties.” “Can you suggest something?” he cried in despair. “Ah, what is that?” There had been a low sound at our little window, and a shadow came between the stars and ourselves. A small white hand was stretched into the lamplight. Some- thing glittered between the fingers. “Quick! quick!” cried a woman's voice. We were on the barrel in an instant. “They have sent for the Cossacks. Your is are at stake. Oh, I am lost! I am lost ‘There was a sound of rushing steps, a hoarse oath, a blow and the stars were once more twinkling through the window. We stood hejpless upon our barrel, with our bleod cold with horror. Half a minute afterward we heard a smothered scream ending in a choke. A great door slammed somewhere in the silent night. : CHAPTER V. “These rufflans have seized her. They will kill her,” I cried. Duroc sprang down with the inarticulate shouts of one whose reason had left him. He struck the door so fratically with his naked hand that he left a blotch’ of blood with every blow. “Here is the key,” I shouted, picking one from the floor. “She must have thrown it in at the instant that she was torn away.” My companion snatched it from me with a shriek of joy. A moment later he dashed ft down on the boards. It was so small that it was lost in the enormous lock. Du- roc sank upon one of the boxes with his head between his hands. He sobbed in his despair. I could Mave sobbed, too, when I thought of the woman and how helpless we were to save her. ‘ But I am not so easily baffled. After ail, this key must have been sent to us for a purpose. The lady could not bring us that of the door because this murderous step- father of hers would most certainly have it in his pocket. Yet this other key must have a meaning, or why should she risk her life to place it in our hands? It would say little for our wits if we could not find out what that meaning might be. I set to work moving all the cases out from the wall, and Duroc, gaining new hope from my energy, helped me with all his strength. It was no light task, for many of them were large and heavy. On we went, working like maniacs, slinging bar- rels and cheeses and boxes pell-mell into the middle of the toom. At last there only remained one huge barrel of vodkl, which stood in the corner. With our united strength we roJled it out, and there was a little, low wooden door in the wainscot be- hind It. The key fitted, and with a cry of delight we saw it swing open before us. With the lamp in my hand I squeezed my way In, followed by my companion. We were in the powder magazine of the castle—a rough-walled cellar, with barrels all around it, and one with the top staved in in the center. The powder from it lay in a black-heap on the floor. . Beyond there was another door, but it was locked. “We are no better off than before,” cried °. “We have no key.” We have a dozen,” I cried. Where?” pointed to the line of powder barrels. You would blow this door open?” recisely.’” “But you would explodé the magazine.” It was true, but I was not at the end of my _ resources. “We shall blow open the store room door,” I cried. ? I ran back and seized a tin box which We Were in the Powder Magazine of the Castle. had been filled with candles. It was about the size of my busby—large enough to hold several pounds of powder. Duroc filled it while I cut off the end of a candle. When we had finished it would have puzzled a colonel of engineers to make a better pe- terd. I put three cheeses on top of each other and placed it above them so as to lean against the lock. Then we lit our candle-end and ran for shelter, shutting the deor of the magazine behind ‘us. It’ was no joke, my friends, to lie among all those tons of powder, with the knowl- edge that if the flame of the explosion should penetrate through ore thin door our blackened limbs would be shot higher than the castle keep. Who could believe that a half-inch of candle could take so long to burn? My ears were straining all the time for the thudding of the hoofs of the cos- Yet he "Fought On, Even After the Final Thrust Had Come. sacks who were coming to destroy us, I had almost made up my mind that the candle must have gone out when there was a smack like a bursting bomb. Our door flew to bits, and pieces of cheese with a shower of turnips, apples and splinters of cases were shot in among us. AS we rushed out we had to stagger through impenetrable smoke, with all sorts of debris beneath our feet, but there was a glimmering square where the dark door had been. The petard had done its work. In fact, it had done more for us than we had ventured to hope. It had shattered jailers as well as jail. The first thing that I saw as I came out was a man with a butcher's ax in his hand, lying flat on his back, with a gaping wound across his fore- head. ‘The second was a huge dog with two of its legs broken twisting in agony upon the floor. As it reared itself I saw the broken ends flapping like flails. At the same instant I heard a cry, and there was Duroc, thrown against the wall, with the other hound’s teeth in his throat. He pushed It off with his left hand, while again and again he passed his saber through its body, but it was not until I blew out its brains with my Sistol that the iron jaws relaxed and the fierce bloodshot eyes were glazed in death. There was no time for us to pause. A woman's scream from in front—a scream of mortal terror that told us even now we might be too late. There were two other men in the hall, but they cowered away from our drawn swords and furious faces. The blood, was streaming from “Duroc's neck and dyeing the gray fur of his pelisse. Such was the lad’s fire, however, that he shot in front of me, and it was only over his shoulder that I caught a glimpse of the scene as we rushed into the chamber in which we had first seen the master of the Castle of Gloom. ‘ The baron was standing in the middle of the room, with his tangled mane bristling like an angry lion. He was, as I have said, a huge man, with enormous shoylders, and as he stood there, with his face flushed with rage and his sworf advanced, I could not but think that in spite of all his villanies he had a proper figure for a grenadier. The lady lay cowering in a chair behind him. A weal across one of her white arms and a dog whip upon the floor were enough to show that our escape had hardly been in time to save her from his brutality. He gave a how! like a wolf as we broke in, and Was upon us in an instant, hacking and driving with a curse at every blow. _ I have already sald that the room gave no space for swordsmanship. My young companion was in front of me in the nar- rcw passage between the table and the wall, so that T could only look on without being able to aid him. The lad knew some- thing of his weapon, and was as fierce and active as a wildcat, but in so narrow space the weight and strength of the giant gave him the advantage. Besides, he was an admirable swordsman. His parade and re- poste were as quick as lightning. -Twice he toucked Duroc upon the shoulder, and then as the lad slipped on a lunge he whirled up his sword to finish him before he could recover bis feet. I was quicker than he, however, and took the cut upon the pommel of my saber. “Excuse me id I, ‘but you have still to deal with Etienne Gerard.” He drew back and leaned against the tapestry covered wall, breathing in little hoarse gasps, for his foul living was against him. Take your breath,” said I. “I will await your convenience.” ou have no cause of quarrel against he panted. ‘ owe you some little attention,” sald I, “for having shut me up in your store room, Besides, if all others were wanting, I see cause enough upon that lady's arm.” “Have your way, then,” he snarled, and leaped at me like a madman. For a min- ute I saw only the blazing blue eyes, and the red-glazed point which stabbed and stabbed, rasping off to right or to left, and yet ever back at my throat and my breast. T had never thought that such good sword play was to be found at Paris in the days of the revolution. I do not suppose that in all my little affairs T have met six men who had a better knowledge of their weapon. But he knew that I was his mas- ter. He read death in my eyes, and I could read that she read it. The flush died from his face. His breath came in shorter and thicker gasps. Yet he fought on, even after the final thrust had come, and died still hacking and cursing with foul cries upon his lips and his blood clotting upon his orange beard. I who speak to you have seen so many battles that my old memory can scarce contain thelr names, and yet of all the terrible sights which these eyes have rested upon there is none I care to think of less than that strange beard with the crimson stain in the center, from which I had drawn my sword point. It was only afterwards that I had time to think of all this. His monstrous body had hardly crashed down upon the floor before the woman in the corner sprang to her feet, clapping her hands together and screaming out in her delight. For my part I was disgusted to see a woman take de- ght in such a deed of blood, and I gave no thought of the terrible wrongs which must have befallen her before she could so far forget the gentleness of her sex. It was on my tongue to tell her sharply to be silent when a strange choking smell took the breath from my nostrils, and a sudden yellow glare brought out the fig- ures of the faded hangings. “Duroc, Duroe,” I shouted, tu: his shoulder. ‘The castle is on ree = But the boy lay senseless upon the ground, exhausted by his wounds. I rush- ed out into the hall to see whence the dan- ker came. It was our explosion which had set a light to the dry framework of the door. Inside the store room some of the boxes were already blazing. I glanced in, and as I did so my blood was turn- ed to water by the sight of the powder bar- rels beyond and of the loose heap on the floor. It might be .seconds, it could not be more than minutes, before the flames would be at the edge of it. These eyes will be closed in death, my friends, before they cease to see those crawling lines of fire and the black heap beyond. How little I can remember of what fol- lowed. Vaguely I can recall how I rushed into the chamber of death, how I seized Duroe ‘by one linyp hand and dragged him down the hall, the woman keeping pace with me and pulling at the other arm. Out of the gateway we rushed, and on down the. snow-eovered path until we were on the fringe of the fir forest. It was at that moment that I heard a crash behind me, and glancing around saw a great spout of fire shoot up into the wintry sky. An in- stant later there seemed to come a second crash, far louder than the first, and I saw the fir trees and the stars whirling round me and I fell unconscious across the body of my comrade. It was some weeks before I came to my- self in the post house of Arensdorf, and longer still before I could be told all that had befallen me. It was Duroc, already able to go soldiering, who came to my bed- side and gave me an account of it.. He it was who told me how a piece of timber had struck me of the head and had laid me almost dead upon the ground. From him, too, I learned how the Polish girl had run to Arensdorf, how she had roused our hussars, and how she had only just brought them back in time to save us from the spears of the Cossacks, who had been summoned from their bivouac by that same Wiack-hearted secretary whom we~ had geen galloping so swiftly over the snow. As to the brave lady who had twice saved our lives, I could not learn very much about her at that moment from Duroc, but when I chanced to meet him in Paris two years later after the campaign of Wagram, I was not very much surprised to find that I needed no introduction to his bride, and that by the queer turns of fortune he had himself, had he chosen to use it, that very name and title of the Baron Straubenthal, which showed him to be the owner of the blackened ruins of the Castle of Gloom. CHEROKEE .HALL When Times Were Flush on the Frontier. THE OLD CATTLEMAN’S STORY A Wild Stage Ride Through a Canyon. SINGLE HANDED INDIAN FIGHT Written for The Evening Stan. HEN I LOOKS backward down the trail,” said the old cattleman, ‘if there is one man I reflects on with satisfaction it's Cherokee Hall. This yere Hall was the modestest,decent- est longhorn as ever shakes his antlers in Arizona. He was slim and light, with a thin face and gray eyes. This yere man was a card sharp from his moccasins up, an’ I never knows him to have a dollar he doesn’t gamble for. Nuthin’ tinhorn, though; I sees him one night an’ he sets ca’mly into some four-handed poker—$15,- 000 table stake—an’ he’s jest that sanguine an’ hopeful about landin’ on his feet as a cimmarron sheep. Of course times was plenty flush those days, an’ $15,000 don’t seem no such giant sum. Trade is lively an’ valves high—aces up callin’ for $500 before the draw. Still we ain't none of us @ makin’ of gunwadden of no such roll as $15,000 even then. The days ain’t quite so halcyon as all that neither. “But what I likes speshul in Cherokee Hall is his jedgment. He’s every time night. He ain’t talkin’ much, an’ he ain’t needin’ advice neither, more’n a pig needs a six-shooter. But when he concludes to do une you can gamble he’s got it plenty right. The Binek Coated Passenger. “One time this yere Cherokee and Dan Boggs is a comin’ in from Tucson on the stage. Besides Cherokee an’ Boggs, along comes a female a close herdin’ of two young ones—which them infants might. have been stingin’ lizards an’ every one a heap happier—an’ sorter in charge of the whole outfit is a long, lean man, in a black ecat. Well, they hops in an’ Boggs and Cherokee gives "em the two back seats on account of the female an’ the yearlin's. “‘My name is Jones,’ says the man in the black ceat, when he gets settled back an’ the stege is goin’, ‘an’ I'm an exhortin’” evangelist an’ I piucks brands from the burrin’.” “I'm powerful glad to know it,’ says Boggs. ‘Them games of chance which enjoys public notice in this yere clime are some varjous, an’ I did think I shorely tests "em ‘all; but if the device you names was ever-open in Wolfville I overlooks the same complete.” “Pore, sinkin’ soul,’ says the black coat man, ‘he's a flounderin’ in the mire of sin. Don’t you know, my pershin’ friend, you are bein’ swept downward in the river of your own sinful life "til you soul, will be da ned in the abyss?” Weil, no,’ says Boggs, ‘I don’t. I al- lows I was makin’ a mighty dry ford of it. “Lost! lost!’ says the black coat man, a leanin’ back plenty hopeless. ‘It is a stiff- necked generation an’ sorely perverse a lot.’ The Children and Cherokee. “Well, the stage jolts along two or three miles, an’ nuthin’ bein’ said. The black coat man he groans occasionally, which worries Boggs, an’ the two infants, gettin’ restless, comes tumblin’ over onto Cherokee an’ go searchin of his pockets for memen- toes. This yere is about as pleasant an’ re- froshin’ to Cherokee as bein’ burned at the stake, but the mother she leans back. an’ smiles, an’, of course, he’s plumb he’pless. Finally, the biack coat man pints in for another talk. ““What is your name, my pore worm,’ says the black coat man, addressin’ of Boggs; ‘an’ whatever avocation has you, and your lost companion?’ ““Why,’ says Boggs, ‘this yere’s Hall— Cherokee Hall. @e turns faro in the Red Light; an’, continues Boggs, a lowerin’ of his voice, ‘he’s as squar’ a man as ever counted a deck. Actooly, pard, you might not think it, but all that man knows about cold decks or dealin’ second or any sech sinful schemes is jest mere tradition.’ ‘Brother,’ says the female, bristlin’ up an’ tacklin’ the black coat man, ‘don’t talk to them persons no more. Them's gam- blers, an’ mighty awful men,’ an’ with that she snatches away the yearlin’s like they was contaminated. “This was some relief to Cherokee, but the young ones howls like coyotes, an’ wants to come back an’ finish robbin’ their victim. But the mother she spanks ‘em, an’ when Boggs was goin’ to give "em some cartridges outen his belt to amoose ‘em she sasses him scandalous, an’ allows she ain't needin’ no attention from him. Then she leans back an’ snorts at Cherokee an’ Boggs mighty contemptuous. The young ones keeps on yellin’ in a unmelodeous way, an’ while Cherokee is ca’m an’ don’t seem like he minds it much, Boggs gets nervous, an’ finally lugs out his bottle, aimin’ to drink a lot an’ compose his feelin’s, which they was some harrowed by now. “Well, I never,’ says the woman. ‘I shorely sees sots before now, but at least they has the deceney not to drink before a lady.” “This stampedes Boggs complete, an’ so he throws the bottle outen the stage, an’ don’t get no drink. In the Dangerous Canyon. “After a while the stage strikes into the upper end of a dark, rocky canyon. This yere canyon was about two miles long, an’ was lately reckoned some bad. Nuthin’ had ever happened on the line, but these yere was the days when Victoria an’ his Apaches was cavortin’ ‘round plenty loose, an’ it was mighty possible they was a-layin’ somewhar in the hills along the trail to Tucson. If they gets a notion to stand up the stage they was shore due to do it in this yere canyon, wherefore Cherokee an’ Boggs an’ old Monte, who's drivin’, regards it plenty suspicious. Send ‘em through on the jump, Monte,’ says Cherokee, stickin’ out his head. ‘So the six horses lines out at a ten-mile gait, which rattles things around a whole lot, an’ makes the black-coat man sigh, while the young ones sets up some ap- pallin’ shrieks. The female gets speshul mad at this, thinkin’ as how they're play- in’ it low down on her fambly. But she takes it out in cuffin’ the yearlin’s now an’ then, jest to keep ’em yellin, an’ don’t say nuthin’. “Well, the stage is about half through the canyon, when all at once up on both sides about twenty Winchesters begins to hop an’ jump mighty permiscus, the same goin’ hand in hand with some whoops of cnusual merit. With the first shot old Monte pours the whip into the team, and them hosses goes into the collars like six lions. It’s plenty lucky aborigines ain’t no shots. They never seems to get the phel- osophy of a hind sight none, an’ generally you can’t reach their bullets with a ten- fcot pole. The only thing as gets hit this time is Boggs. About the beginnin’ a little cloud of dust fiys outen the shoulder of his coat, an’ his face turns pale, an’ Cherokee knows he’s creased. “Did they get you hard, old man? says Cherokee, some anxious. : “ ‘No,’ says. Boggs, tryin’ to brace him- se’f, ‘I'll be around in a second. I wishes I had that whisky I hurls overboard a min- ute back so graceful.’ “Well, the Injuns comes tumblin’ down onto the trail an’ gives chase, a shootin’ an’ a yellin’, a heap zealous, As they was on foot an’ as the ‘bus was makin’ fifteen miles an hour by now, they could jest man- age to hold their own in the race, about forty yards to the r’ar. How Cherokee Planned It. “Finally Cherokee, after thinkin’ a sec- ond, says to Boggs: ‘This yere is the way I figgers it. If we keeps on this away these Injuns ‘ll shore run in on us a half imile further, at the ford. They’re due to down a hoss or Monte—maybe both—in which event the stage shorely stops, an’ it’s a fight. This yere bein’ true, an’ as I’m elected for a fight anyhow, I’m goin’ to hop outen the stage right yere an’ pull on the dance myse’f. This’ll stop the chase, an’, to tell a fact, it’s about the only chance the box this yere pore female an’ her offstrings has to live, an’ I'm goin’ to play it for em, win or lose.” “‘Them’s my notions,’ says Boggs, a tryin’ to pull himse’f together, ‘shall we take this yere he shorthorn along?’ an’ he p'ints where them four tenderfeet is mixed up together in the back of the stage. “‘He wouldn’t be no earthly use,’ says Cherokee, ‘an’ you're too hard hit; Dan, yourse’f. So jest take my regards to En- right an’ the boys an’ smooth this all you aw for Faro Nell, an’ I makes the trip alone.’ “ ‘Not much,’ says Boggs. ‘My stack goes into the center, too.’ “But it didn’t, though, ’cause Boggs had bled a heap more’n he thought an’ the first move he makes he tips over in a faint. So Cherokee picks up his Winchester, an’ open- in’ the door of the stage jumps clean free, an’ they leave him th’ar on the trail. Results of the Fight. . “Well, the stage comes into Wolfville, ten miles further down, on the lope. Boggs !s still in a faint and about bled to death, while them exhortin’ people is shorely outen their minds. Well, in no time a dozen of us is lined out for Cherokee. Did | we find him? Well, I should say we shore- ly found him. They'd got one bullet through his laig, an’ there he was, with his back agin a rock wall, an’ his eyes gitterin’, a-holdin’ the canyon. There never was no Injun gets by him. Of course they‘all runs when they hears us a-comin’, so we don’t get no fight. “I hopes you nails one, Cherokee,’ says Enright, - ‘playin’ even on this yere-laig they shoots.’ “"I win once, I think,’ says Cherokee, ‘over behind that big rock to the left.’ “Sure enuf‘he’s got one Injun, too, dead to skin, an’ comin’ along a little further Jack Moore finds a second. ““Yere’s another,’ says Jack Moore, ‘which makes even on Boggs.” “That's right,’ says Cherokee, ‘I remem- bers now there was two. The cards come some fast one time, an’ I overlooks a bet.’ “Well, we gets Cherokee in_gll right, an’ next day around comes the female’tender- foot to see him. ; “| wants to thank my preserver,’ she says. “You ain't under no obligations, what- ever, maum,’ says Cherokee, risin’ up a Ht- tle, ‘while Faro Néll puts another goose h’ar pillow under him. ‘I simply prefers to do my fightin’ in the canyon to doin’ it at the ford; that’s all. It was jest a matter of straight business—jest a prefer- ence I has. Another thing,-marm, I know you'll excuse it, seein’ I’m a single man @n’ onused to childish ways; but I was mighty glad for an excuse to get away from them blessed children of Lin tke on ——— DUBOIS’ SNAKE STORY. He Relates an Adventure of Col. Ster- itt at the Woodmont Club. “This is a snake story,” said Senator Du- bois to a Star writer. “You are not, how- ever, to infer anything from it derogatory to my character as a sober, truthful man. You may or you may not know that I am a member of the Woodmont Hunting and Fishing Club. A very successful feature of the club is Col. William Greene Steritt, who is also a member. The other day Col. Steritt and I repaired to Woodmont to fish for bass. The water was too muddy in the Potomac, and we turned our attention to the canal. We caught several bass; but that was noz the snake point I was getting to. While we were industriously whipping the canal we noticed on the opposite side,where a stone Wall was built as part of the canal lock, a number of snakes, who were pro: truding their heads from between the stones, and evidently taking great interest in our fishing. “My imagination may have added to the collection, but I should say there were at least two hundred snakes, who had left their ordinary avocations, as it were, to watch Col. Steritt and me fish. What in- terest they took in our hunt for black bass I can’t see; but they were very steady and attentive witnesses. All we could see of them was their heads, and these stuck out from the cracks and fissures between the stones so numerously as to make the wall fairly bristle with them, and gave the view on the other side from us a very serpen- tine effect, indeed. “At last Steritt concluded to catch one if he could, and so inaugurate fly fishing for water snakes. He went across to the opposite side of the canal and dropped his hook over the face of the wall in front of this grand stand of snakes. They seemed very eager to get at the bait, and half a dozen hung themselves out into the air fully two feet, making desperate efforts to grab the hook. They took hold several times, but Col. Steritt was never able to fasten the hook in their mouths. They didn’t seem to take hold in the right way. “I stood opposite and coached Col. Steritt in his snake Ashing, and observing one fine, fat burgomaster of a snake taking an in- terest in his bait, I besought him to let the snake have his own way and fasten him- gelf. Under my directions he allowed the game to feed himself. In about a minute, having gotten the hook well down his throat, Col. Steritt ‘struck.’ Then ensued a great struggle. The water snake curled his tail around something in the inierior of the earth, and compelled Col. Steritt to bend rod fairly double before he “He came very slowly even then, making a great filibuster and contesting every inch. Little by little, however, he was pulled free from the rocks. During the progress of the combat between Col. Steritt and the water snake the er snakes looked on in amazemeat, not to say horror. They couldn’t understand the game, which, while it was too many for them, nevertheless filled them with diemay. “At last the victim was yanked out into the air, where he thrashed around the end of Col. Steritt’s tackle and twisted himself into all sorts of figure eights. Brief as the spectacle was, it settled the question with all the other srakes. They withdrew their heads, and never a one of them has been seen since. Col. Steritt took a club and killed his prey and essayed to fish for more, but, bait as he might, and wile he ever so guilefully, he couldn't get another bite. Col. Steritt now announces himself as the cham- pion snake fisherman of the Woodmont Club, As for myself, I haven't done any- thing but dream of all sorts of snakes, from the deadly cobra to the common gar- ter snake, ever since. “The Chicago Solomon. From the Chicago Tribune. The police department may be a little shy when it comes to trailing loSt goats, but when pigeons are Involved there ts a member of the force who possesses all the shrewd attributes of Solomon of old. It is like this: On Friday Adolph Grenboldt, No. 1417 California avenue, owned $400 worth of “homer” pigeons, and the next morning they were not. Officers Wieneka and Heaney of the Attrill street station were placed on the trail. It led yesterday first to a Chinese laundry and then to the residence of Stephen Spitza, where the birds were found. Mr. Spitza was positive the birds were his. So was Mr. Grenboldt. “This is the easiest thing I have struck for a long time,” said Officer Heaney. Then he opened the coop, turned the pig- eons looze, watched them circle once in the air and then start off. “Now,” said this latter-day Solomon, turning to Mr. Grenboldt, “if those birds are yours they will be home before you are.” And they were. One of the stolen birds has the 750-mile record from a point in Mississipp! to Chicago, winning the first prize last year. In all fourteen of the sto- len birds have been recovered. ———_+e+____ Enough to Provoke a Saint. From Truth. A young man in an outing shirt and straw hat was wheeling a baby carriage back and forth along the pavement in front of a certain flat in Brooklyn. The hot afternoon sun poured pitilessly down upon him, and he was as angry as any man in the city. “My dear,” came a voice from the upper window of the house. ‘You go to thunder,” he shrieked back. ‘Let me alone, can’t you?” and he went on wheeling and mopping his face. An hour later the same voice came from the same windcw in earnest, pleading tones: “George, dear!” “Well, what in the deuce do you want?” he shouted. “Have the water pipes burst?” ‘No, George, dear!” wailed the voice; “the water pipes are all right, but you've been wheeling Lottie’s doll ell the after- noon. Hadn’t you better iet baby have a turn now?” This was last week, but George is still in the hospital pending an examination as to his sanity. 3 PITY THE BABIES They Suffer More From Heat Than Adults. : Digestion, » Sleep, Strength Quickly Impaired Food Must Nourish But Not Burden System. Lactated Food Expressly Pre- - pared to This End, Made Under Personal Care of Eminent Prof. Boynton, ae is Pot rotary Sager hg the physician's taking, and ceartaat ae by a gaa soe Saye ‘with it. food. taken ta, suit cen cient quantit! => the child a1 se Yen ts prepared’ “Cs essors is prey L. Inder the advice of the the medicai depgrtment of the Vermont university, more espectally“that of Prof. A. P. Grinnell, desk Of the university, and Dr. 8." M. Roberta, prof of diseases of children, and under the investigation and direct supervision’ of Prof. C. $. Boynton, the manufacture of lactated was tegua It has Saved thousands of bables’ lives and enabled thou. more to grow up strong and big and — sturdy Soetitatons. sed — ie use of lactated food does away with anziety regarding cholera infantum. Tactated food is as pure as mountain air. It with chil- dren's stomachs even when ibey by simmer heat. : ‘A best of mothers have to thank lactated food for the joy of seeing their drooping, silent, white- faced little ones turn to bright-eyed, charming ba- dies, that eat and sleep and grow in a way to de- light any mother’s heart. Great numbers of such mothers have written that. nothing else would Agree with-thelr children but lactated food. ‘A trial of less than two weeks will tell its own story im Dabyie weight, eyes. checks and splrita, nts other Nursing mothers find iactated food Just a to their Mar needs. It nourishes both mi and child. And this is what one would e: from a knowledge of its rich, blood making Ingre- dents, using pure milk sugar as a basis, because iso the basis of mother's milk; there is added. the richest gluten flour of wheat and oats. ‘These are subjected to high steam heat under pressu: and while in constant motion and perfectiy cooked the extract of the finest malt barley is added, mak- Ing this 2 partially digested food that is casily as similated by the feeblest stomach. Invalids and aged persons find lactatod food the most grateful to thelr weak stomachs of any nutri- ment they can take. Chicago's Crack Nine. From the Chicago Dispatch. “Is that Fuller & Fuller, the wholesale druggists?” “You've got the right people. Who are you, pray?” “I'm Spalding—you know—the man who owns Captain Anse and the colts.” “Go ahead. Time's precious.” “Anse won a game yesterday. I see he was presented with a bouquet and bought some ginger. Which do you think did it? if you say ginger I want at least a ton and a half of that commodity.” “I don't believe it was either.” “What was it, then?” —_+e+—____ Climbing Mount Blanc. From the Boston Transcript. It Is an expensive as well as a very tire- some undertaking to ascend Mount Blanc. It costs at least $50 per person, for by tite law of the commune of Chamoun! each stranger is obliged to have two guides and a porter. So far as the danger is concerned it is now reduced to a minimum, but al- most every year the mountain claims a vic- tim. Bad weather is the chief thing feared by the guides, and so swiftly does it come that a cloudless sky may in fifteef minutes turn to a blinding snow storm which beats you to the ground. Thus it was that some years ago a party of eleven persons per- ished. Five were found frozen stiff in the snow; the other six still Ne buried in the Glacier des Boissons. Forty years is the time allowed for the glacier to yield them up in the valley below. ——_+e+______ The Banana Peel, the Acrobat and the Disappointed Boy. From Life, -