Evening Star Newspaper, April 10, 1897, Page 16

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, APRIL 10, 1897-24 PAGES, ‘The Evening Star. Continued from last Saturday.) but silently—alert, self- For this dreamer, man, cornful phiic hi ppeared with that ass upon the sacred treasure. of the blanket ceased; the recommenced. He wie knife from his boot- hree no strides was be- There he saw what he fully —a narrow, horizontal gap = walls of the cabin and the . slowly widening and deepening burrowing of unseen hands from The cold outer air which he had was now plainly flowing into the abin through the opening. The sound recommenced and stopped. he four fingers of a hand, palm iously introduced be- and the denuded ftoor. that intruding hand the bowie knife morest descended like a flash of ligh.- was no outery—even in thut oment Demorest felt a pang of the stoicism of the unseen but the maimed hand was quick- nirawn. And as quickly Demorest t door and dashed into the dda pile. he fore fon fc trespasser. ant he was dazed and bewil- “Ir ‘so LONG’ ee) seh ce kreh x THREE 0 The Big Strike on Heavy Tree Hill. BY BRET HARTE. SCHETHING UNIQUE. DON'T OPEN IT UNTIL I RUN AHEAD AND SAY TO YOUR PARTNERS.” NO NONINO NONE ARTNERS; t OWT we se, elsek sel sei se) —a9 acnumyononouows oO Ase) se koekset xe k sek: cabin as Dick lurched heavily forward, still muttering, down the trail. The excite- ment over, a sickening repugnance to the whole incident took the place of Demorest's resentment and indignation. There had been a cowardly attempt to rob them of their miserable treasure. He had met it and frustrated it in almost as brutal a fashion; the gold was already tarnished with blood. To his surprise, yet relief, he found his partners, unconscious of the out- rage, still sleeping with the physical immo- bility of over-excited and tired men. Should he awaken them? No. He should have to awaken also their suspicions and desire for revenge. There was no danger of a further attack; there was no fear that the cul- prit would disclose himself,.and tomorrow the waquld be far away. Let oblivion rest on that night's stain on the honor of Heavy Tree Hill. : He rolled a small barrel before the open- ing, smocthed the dislodged earth, replaced | the pan with its treasure, and trusted that in the bustle of the early morning depart- ure his partners might not notice any change. Stopping before the bunk of Stacy, He glanced at the sleeping man. He was lying on his back, but breathing heaviiy, and his hands were moving toward his chest as if, indeed, his strange fancy of | the golden incubus were being realized. Demorest would have wakened him, but nily, with a sigh of r f, the sleeper turned over on his side. It was pleasanter to look at Barker, whose damp curls were | matted over his smooth, boyish forehead, j and whose lips were parted in a smile; under the silken wings of his brown mus- sudden change. zing, doubl i rew himseif upon n fell, even in felt holic fumes of Whiskey Dick, at the hands which were east, the palms instinctive move- s man, were un- With an oath he unkard from him, and dashed But too late! tered earth,there row as it had been excav: by that mutilated hand—bi But the next y Dick. But the although s retaining a ror in his eyes, had re- kind of angry confi- nse of injury. hat by attacking “inno- trail outside his in, he would doing here at midnight?” What was any gen- 1 y_molycoddle, What was he been with men who loers and turn the boys nk of the evening. He Tr, by to be wet-nursed here?” said Demor- yes fixed on Whiskey ze Which seemed to veil 1 from the drunkard’s pupils with such a look of direct rest was fain to turn But the ve ly re- with it Dick's work-up ea iy was there—not “a Did Demorest think if there had y of his friends there they would ‘ood by like “dogsh” and seen him i? turned away and re-entered the OR.CHASES Blood»Nerve Food You wages terete Taxing oe For Weak and Run Down People. What is It] Te richest of at restors- tive foods, because it re- eacentials of life that are exhausted indigestion, high living, overwork, making the blood and rich and the a ates flesh, muscle and © :, made strong—the brain Lecomes tive an It restores lost Vitaliry, ‘stops all wasting Grates and weakness Is cite em as @ female regulator has no equal, Price Sie.. or tive boxes $2.00. Drugyists er by wail. We can help you. Advice and book, free. | Write Us About Your Case. | e Dr. Chase Company, 1512 Philadelphi OL OTTHE of Hires Rootbeer on a sweltering hot day is highly essen- tial to com: and health. It cools the blood, reduces your temperature, tones the stomach. figure | he tangled | | | But he only murmured, “'Three—hundred— tache. He, too, seemed to be trying to speak, and remembering some previous revelations which had amused them, Dem- | orest leaned over him fraternally with an answering smile, waiting for the beloved | one’s name to pass the young man's lips. thousand dollars!” The elder man turned away with a grave face. The influence of the treasure was paramount. When he had placed one of the chairs against the unprotected door at an angle which would prevent any easy or noiseless intrusion, Demorest threw himself without undressing on his bunk and turned his} face toward the single window of the cabin that looked toward the east. He did not apprehend another covert attempt against the gold. He did not fear a robbery with force of arms, although he was satisfied that there were more than one concerned in it, but that he attributed only to the incumbering weight of their expected booty. He simply waited for the dawn. It was some time before his eyes were greeted with the vague opaline brightness of the firmament which meant the vanishing of the pallid snow line before the coming day. A bird twittered on the roof. The air was chill; he drew his blanket around him. Then he closed his eyes, he fancied only for a moment, but when he opened them the door was standing open in the strong daylight. He sprang to his feet, but the next moment he saw it was only Stacy who had passed out and was returning fully. dressed, bringing water from the spring to fill the kettle. But Stacy's face was so grave that, recalling his disturbed sleep. Demorest laughingly inquired if he had been haunted by the treasure. But to his surprise Stacy put down the kettle and with a hurried glance at the still sleeping Barker, said in a low voice: “I want you to do something for me without asking why. Later I will tell you.” Demorest looked at him fixedly. ‘What is 10?” he said. “The pack mules will be here in a few moments. Don’t wait to close up or put away anything here, but ciap that gold in the saddle bags and take Barker with you and light out for Boomville at once. I will overtake you later.” “Is there no time to discuss this?” asked Demorest. “No,” sald Stacy, sharply. “Call me a crank. Say I'm in a blue funk”—his com- pressed lips and sharp black eyes did not lend themselves much to that hypothesis —“only get out of this with that stuff and take Barker with you. I'm not responsible for myself while it's here.” Demorest knew Stacy to be combative but practical. If he had not been assured of his partners last night’s slumbers he might have thought he knew of the at- tempt. Or if he had discovered the turned- up ground in the rear of the cabin his curiosity would have demanded an expla- nation. Demorest paused only for a mo- ment and said, “Very well, I will go.” “Good. I'll rouse out Barker, but not a word to him except that he must go.” The routing out of Barker consisted of Stacy's lifting that young gentleman bod- fly from his bunk and standing him up- right in the open doorway. But Barker was accustomed to this Spartan process, and after a moment's balancing, with closed lids, like an unwrapped mummy, he sat down in the doorway and began to dress. He at first demurred to their de- parture except all together; it was so un- fraternal, but eventually he allowed him- self to be persuaded out of it and into his clothes. For Barker had also had his visions in the night; one of which was that they should build a beautiful villa on the site of the old cabin and solemnly agree to come every year and pass a week in it together. “I thought at first,” he sald, sliding along the floor in search of different articles of his dress, or stopping gravely to catch them as they were thrown to him by his partners, “that we'd have it at Boomville, as being handier to get there, but I've concluded we'd better have it here, a little higher up on the hill, where it could be seen over the whole Black Spur range. When we weren't here we could use it as a hut of refuge for broken-down or washed-out miners, or weary travelers, like those hospices in ‘the Alps, you know, and have somebody to keep it for us. You see, I’ve thought even of that, and Van Loo is the very man to take charge of it for us. You see, he’s got such good man- ners and speaks two @ German or Frenchman came along, and distressed, Van Loo would just in his own language See? You've just got to think of all these details, you see, boys. And we might call it “Phe Rest of the Three Partners,’ or “Three Partners’ “And you might begin by ‘us one,” a Stacy. “Dry up and eameneee cof- “TH draw out the plans® Ive in my head,” continued the Barker, unheeding the interruption. ‘ just run out and take cee its only right back Stacy it as he was boot on, , POOF chip chair, with a tin cup of coffedgin his hand, “Keep the plans in your , Barker,” satd Demorest, “for here the ‘pack mules and packer.” This was quite enough to divert the impresstonable young man, who speedily finished his dressing, as a mule, bearing a large pack saddle and two enormous saddle-bags or pouches, drove up before the door, led by a muleteer on a small horse. The transfer of the treas- ure to th? saddle bags was quickly made by their united efforts as the first rays of the sun were beginning to paint the hill- side. Shading his keen eyes with his hand, Stacy stood in the doorway and handed Demorest the two rifles. Demorest hesi- tated. “Hadn't you better keep one?” he said, looking in his partner's eyes with his first challenge of curiosity. The sun seemed to put a humorous twinkle into Stacy's glance as he returned, “Not much! And you'd better take my revolver wi you, too. I'm feeling a little better now, he said, looking at the saddle bags, “but I'm not fit to be trusted yet with carnal weapons. When the other mule comes and is sacked I'll overtake you on the horse.” A little more satistied, although — still wondering and perplexed, Demorest shoul- dered one rifle, and, with Barker, who was carrying the other, followed the muleteer and his equipage down the trail. For a while he was a little ashamed of his part in this unusual spectacle of two armed men conveying a laden mule in broad day- light, but, luckily, it was too early for the Bar miners to be going to work, and as the tunnel men were now at breakfast, the trail was free of wayfarers. At the point where it crossed the main road Dem- crest, however, saw Steptoe and Whiskey Dick emerge from the thicket, apparently nest conversation. Demorest felt his repugnance and half-restrained suspicions suddenly return. Yet he did not wish to betray them before Barker, nor was le willing, in case of an emergency, to allow the your.g man to be entirely unprepared. Calling him to follow he ran quickly ahead of the laden mule, and was relieved to find that, looking back, his companion had brought his rife to a “ready” through some instinctive feeling of defense. As Steptoe and Whiskey Dick, a moment laier discovering them, were evidently surprised, there seemed, however, to be no reason for fearing an outbreak. Suddenly, at a whis- per from Steptoe, he and Whiskey Dick both threw up their hands and stood still on the trail a few yards from them in a burlesque of the usual recognized atti- tude of helplessness, while a hoarse laugh broke from Steptoe. * “D-—d If we didn’t think you were road agents! But we see you're only guardin’ your treasure. Rather fancy style for Heavy Tree Hill, ain't it! Things must be gettin’ rough up thar to hev to take out your guns like that!” Demorest had looked keenly at the four hands thus exhibited,and was more concern- ed that they bore no trace of wounds or mutilation than at the insult of the speech—particularly as he had a distinct impression that the action w intended to show nim the futility of his suspicions. “I am glad to see that if you haven't any arms in your hands you're not incap- able of handling them,"’ said Demorest coolly, as he passed by them and again fell into the rear of the muteteer. But Barker had thought the incident very fun- ny and laughed effusively at Whisky Dick. “I didn’t know that Steptoe was up to that kind of fun,” he said, “and I suppose we did look rather rough with those guns as we ran on zhead of the muies. But then you know that when you called to me I really thought you were in for a shindy. All the same, Whiskey Dick did that ‘hands up’ to perfection; how he managed it I don’t know, but his knees seemed to knock together as if he was in a real funk.” Demorest had thought so, too, but he made no reply. How far that miserable drunkard was a forced or willing accom- Plice of the events of last night was vart of a question that had become more and more repugnant tc him as he was leaving the scene of it forever. It had come upon him, desecrating the dream he hed dreampt that last night and turning its hopeful climax to bitterness. Small wonder that Barker, walking by his side, had his quick sympathies aroused, and as he saw that shadow, which they were all familiar with, but had never sought to penetrate, fall upon his companion’s handsome face, even his youthful spirits yielded to it. They were both relieved when the clatter of hoofs behind them, as they reached the alley, announced the approach of Stacy. siarted with the second mule and the Jast load soon after you left,” he explained, “and have just passed them. I thought tt better to join you and let the other load follow. Ncbody will interfere with that.” “Then you are satisfied?" said Demorest, regarding him steadfastly. “You bet! Look!” He turned in his saddle and pointed to the crest of the hill they had just de- scended. Above the pines circling the low- er slope above the bare ledges of rock and outcrop, a column of thick biack smoke was rising straight as a spire in the wind- less air. “That's the old shanty passing away, said Stacy complacently. “I reckon there won't be much of it left before we get to Boomville.”” Demorest and Barker stared. “You fired it?’ sald Barker, trembling with excite- ment. “Yes,” said Stecy, “I couldn’t bear to leave the old rookery for coyotes and wild- cats to gather in, so I touched her off be- fore I left.” “But aid Barker. “But,” repeatel Stacy, compcsedly. “Hal- lo! What's the matter with that new plan of ‘The Rest’ that you’re going to build, eh? You don’t want ‘em both.”” “And you did this rather than leave the dear old cabin to strangers?” said Barker, with kindling eyes. “Stacy, I didn’t think you had that poetry in you. “There’s heaps in me, Barker boy, that you don’t know, and I don't exactly sabe myself.” “Only, continued the young fellow, eagerly, ‘“‘we ought to have all been there. We ought to have made a solemn rite of it, you know—a kind of sacrifice. We ought to have poured a kind of litation on the ground.” “I did sprinkle a little kerosene over it, I think,” returned Stacy, “just to help things along. But if you want to see her flaming, Barker, you just run back to that last corner on the road beyond the big red wood. ‘That's the spot for a view.” As Barker—always devoted to a spectacle —swiftly disappeared, the two men faced each other. “Well, what does it all mean?” said Demorest, rravely. “It means, old man,” said Stacy, sudden- ly, “that if we hadn’t had nigger luck, the same blind luck that sent us that strike, you and I and that Barker over there would have been swirling in that smoke up to the sky about two hours ago!” He stop- ped, and added In a lower, but earnest voice,“‘Look here, Phil. When I went out to fetch’ water this morning I smelt something queer. I went round to the back of the cabin and found a hole dug under the floor and piled against the corner wall a lot at brushwood and a can of kerosene. Some of the kerosene had been already poured on the brush. Everything was ready to light, and only my coming out an hour earlier had frightened the devils away. The idea was to set the place on fire, suffocate us in the smoke of the kerosene poured into the hole, and then to rush in and grab the treasure. It was a systematic plan!” “No,” said Demorest, quietly. “No?" repeated Stacy. “I told you I raw the whole thing and took away the kcro- sene, which I hid, and after you had gone used it to fire the cabin with to see if the ones I suspected would gather to watch thelr work.” “It was no part of their first plan,” said Demorest, “which was only robbery. Lis- ten.” He hurriedly recounted his exper- ience of the preceding night to the aston- ished Stacy. “No, the fire was an after- thought and revenge,” he added, sternly. “But you say you cut the robber in the hand; there wouid be no difficalty in identi- fying him by that.” “I wounded only a hand,” said Demorest. “But there was a head in that attempt that I never saw.” He. then revealed his own alf-suspicion: yu ww they were = ently refuted by the bravado of Steptoe and Whiskey Dick. “Then that was the reason they didn’t gather at the fre,” sald Stacy, quickly. “Ah!” said Demorest, “then you, too, sus- pected them?” and then sald abruptly, Stacy hesitated, “Yen.” Demorest was silent for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me this this morning?’ he said, gently. Stacy pointed to the distant Barker. “1 didn’t want you to tell him. I thought it better for one partner to keep a secret from two than for the two to keep it from on Why didn’t you tell me of your experience last night?” “T am afraid it was for the same reason,” said Demorest, with a faint smile. “And it sometimes seems to me, Jim, that we ought to imitate Barker's frankness. In our dread of tainting him with our own knowledge of evil we are sending him out = ee poorly equipped for all “I reckon you're right,” 2 ae his hand. “And he’s no fool, either,” continued Demorest; “when we met Steptoe on the road, without a word from me he closed up alongside, with hie hand on the lock of his rifle. And I hadn't the heart to praise him or laugh it off.” Nevertheless they were both silent as the object of their criticism bounded down the trail toward them. He had seen the fu- neral pyre. It was awfully sad; it was aw- fully lovely, but there was something grand in it. Who could have thought Stacy could be so poetic? But he wanted to tell them something else that was mighty pretty. “What was it?’ sald Demorest. “Well,” said Barker, “don't laugh. But you know that-Jack Hamlin? Well, boys, he's been hovering around us on his mus- tang, keeping us and that pack mule in sight, ever since we left. Sometimes he's on a side trail off to the right, sometimes off to the left, but always at the same dis- tance. I didn’t like to tell you, boys, for I thought you’d laugh at me; but I think, you know, he’s taken a sort of shine to us since he dropped in last night. And I fancy, you see, he’s sort of hanging round to see that we get along all right. I'd have pointed him out before, only I reckoned you and Stacy would say he was making up to us for our money. ‘And we'd have been wrong, Barker, boy,” said Stacy, with a heartiness that surprised Demorest, “for I reckon your in- stinet’s the right one. “There he is now,” said the gratified Barker, “just abreast of us on the cut-off. He started just after we did, and he’s got a horse that could have brought him into Boomville hours ago. It’s just his kind- ness.”” He pointed to a distant fringe of buckeye, from which Jack Hamiin had just emerged. Although evidently holding in a powerful mustang, nothing could be more uncon- scious and gracefully indolent than his at- titude. He did not seem to know of the proximity of any other traveler and to care less. His handsome head was lightly thrown back as if he was caroling after his usual fashion, but the distance was too great to make his melody audible to them, or to allow Barker's shout of invitation to reach him. Suddenly he lowered his tight- ened rein, the mustang sprang forward, and with a flash of silver spurs and bridle fripperies he had disappeared. But as the trail he was pursuing crossed theirs a mile beyond, it seemed quite possible that they should again meet him. They were now fairly into the Boomville valley, and were entering a narrow arroyo bordered with dusty willows, which effec- tually excluded the view on either ‘side. It was the bed of a mountain torrent that in winter descended the hillside over the trail by which they had just come, but was now sunk into the thirsty plain betweeen banks that varied from two to five feet in height. The muleteer had advanced into the nar- row channel when he suddenly cast a hur- ried glance behind him, uttered a “Madre de Dios!" and backed his mule and his precious freight against the bank. The sound of hoofs on the trail in their rear had caught his quicker ear, and as the three partners turned they beheld three horsemen thundering down the hill toward them, They were apparently Mexican vaqueros of the usual common, swarthy type, their faces made still darker by the black silk handkerchief tied round their heads under their stiff sombreros. Hither they were unable or unwilling to restrain thelr horses in their headlong speed, and a collision in that narrow pas- sage was imminent, but suddenly before reaching its entrance they diverged, with a volley of oaths, and, dashing along the left bank of the arroyo, disappeared in the in- tervening willows. Divided between relief at their escape and ‘ndignation at what seemed to be a drunken feast day freak of these roystering vaqueros, the little party re‘ormed, when a ery from Barker arrested them. He had just perceived a horseman, motionless, in the arroyo, who, although unnoticed by them, had evidently been seen by the Mexicans. He had apparenily leaped Into it from the bank, and had halted as if to witness this singular inci- dent. the clatter of the vaqueros’ hoofs died away, he lightly leaped the bank again and disappeared. But in that single glimpse of him they recognized Jack Ham- lin. When they reached the spot where he had halted they could see that he must have approached St from the trail where they had previously seen him, but which they now found crossed it at right angles. Barker was right. He had really kept them at easy distance the whole length of the journey. But they are now reaching its end. When they issued at last from the arroyo they came upon the outskirts of Boomville and the great stage road. Indeed, the six horses of the Pioneer coach were just panting along the last half mile of the steep up-grade as they appeared. They halted mechanically as the heavy vehicle sweyed and creaked by them. In their or- dinary working dress, sunburnt with ex- posure, covered with dust, and carrying their rifles still in their hands, they, per- haps, presented a sufficiently characteristic appearance to draw a few faces—some of them pretty and intelligent—to the win- dows of the coach as it passed. The sensi- tive Barker was quickest to feel that re- sentment with which the pioneer usually met the wide-eyed criticism of the eastern tourist, or “greenhorn,” and reddened un- der the bold scrutiny of a pair of black in- quisitive eyes behind an eyeglass. That annoyance was communicated, though in a lesser degree, even to the bearded Demor- est and Stac It was an unexpected con- tact with that great world in which they were so soon to enter. They felt ashamed of their appearance, and yet ashamed of that feeling. They felt a secret satisfac- tion when Barker said: “They'd open their eyes wider if they knew what was in that pack saddie,” and yet they correcied him for what they were pleased to call “his snobbishness."” They hurried a little faster as the road became more frequentel, as if eager to shorten their distance to clean. clcthes and civilization. Only Demorest began to linger in the rear. This contact with the stage coach had again brought him face to face with his buried past. He felt his old dream re- vive, and occasionally turned to look back upon the ovilines of Black Spur, under whose shadow it had returned s9 often, and wondered if he had left it there for- ever, and it were now slowly exhaling with the ‘thinned and drying smoke of their burning cabin. His companions, knowing his silent moods, had preceded him at some distance when he heard the soft sound of ambling hoofs on the thick dust, and suddenly the light touch of Jack Hamlin’s gauntlet on his shoulder. The mustang Jack bestrode was reeking with grime and sweat, but Jack himself was as immaculate and fresh as ever. With a delightful affectation cf em- barrassment and timidity he began flicking the side buttons of his velvet vaquero trousers with the thong of his riata. “I reckon to sling a word along with you be- fore you went,” he said, looking down, “but I'm so shy that I couldn’t do it in company. So I thought I’d get it off on you while you were alone. “‘We've seen you once or twice before this morning,” said Demorest pleasantly, “and We were sorry you didn’t join us.”” “I reckon I might have,” said Jack gaily, “if my horse had only made up his mind whether he wes a bird or a squirrel, ard hadn’t béen so various and promiscuous about whether he wanted to climb a tree or fly. He's not a bad horse for a Mexican plug, only when he thinks there is any devilment around, he wants to wade in and take a hand. However, I reckoned io see the last of you and your pile into Boom- ville. And I did. -When I meet three fel- lows like youythat are clean white all through I sort of cotton to ’em, even if I'm a little of a brunette myself. And I’ve got something-to give you.” He took from: the:fold of his scarlet sash @ small parcel meatly folded in white paper as fresh and spotless as himself. Holding it in his fingers, he went on: “I happened to be at Heavy Tree Hill this morning before sun up. In the darkness I struck your cabin, end I reckon—I struck somebody else! At first I thought it was one of you chaps down on your knees praying at thé rear of the cabin, put the way the fellow lit ont when he smelt rae coming made me think it wasn’t-entirely fasting and prayer. However, I went to the rear of the cabin, and then I reckoned some kind friend had been bringing you kindlings and firewood for your early’ b! ‘ast. But that didn’t satisfy me, sq. I elt down as he had knelt, and then I saw—well, Mr. Demorest! I reckon I saw just what you have seen! But even then I wasn’t quite satisfied, for that man had been grubbing round as if searching for something. So I searched, too—and I found it! I’ got it here. I'm ine to give it to you, for it may some 'y come in handy, and you won't find ee e ‘among the folks where you're ing. "8 uniq as those fine art collecting sharps in ‘Prisco say—something quite matchless, unless you try phase it mage! yourself! Don’t open paper until I run on and say ‘So long’ to your partners. Good-bye.” He grasped Demorest’s hand and then dropped the little packet into his palm, and ambled away toward Stacy 3 Holding the packet amusea yet puszied smile, Demorest waich- farewe sheke and s Ms tary slap on the back to the delighted Berker, and then vanish in a flash of red sash and ailv: Buttons. At which Demorest, walking slow. @ez s° 1@ ©©OG 08 OOCO oO PODS OOO QDOSOOSGO0S Sesocoecessen® MORAL. SS66 ly toward his partners, opened the packet, and stood suddenly still. It contained the dried and bloodless second finger of a human hand, cut off at the first joint! For an instant he held it at arm’s length, as if about to cast it away. Then he grim- ly replaced it in the paper, put it carefully in his pocket, and silently walked after his companion. (End of Prologue.) Chapter I. After Three Years. A strong southwester was beating against the windows and doors of “Stacy’s Bank” in San Francisco, and spreading a film of rain between the regular splendors cf its mahogany counters and sprucely dressed | clerks and the usual passing pedestrian, For Stacy's new banking nouse had long since received the epithet of “palatial” from an enthusiastic local press fresh from the “opening” luncheon in its richly decorated directors’ rooins, and it was said that once a homely would-be depositor from One Horse Gulch was so cowed by its magnuli- cence that his heart failed him at the last moment, and mumbling an apology to the elegant receiving teller, fled with his greasy chamois pouch of gold dust to deposit his gold dust in the dingy mint around the corner. Perhaps there was something of this feeling mingled with a certain simple- minded fascination in the hesitation of a stranger of a higher class who entered the bank that rainy morning and finally ten- dered his card to the important negro mes- senger. The card preceded him through noiseless- ly swinging doors and across heavily car- peted passages until it reached the inner core of Mr. James Stacy's private offices, and was respectfully laid before him. He was not alone. At his side, in an atti- tude of polite and studied’ expectancy, stood a correct-looking young man, for whom Mr. Stacy was evidently writing a memorandum. The stranger glanced fur- tively at the card with a curiosity hardly in keeping with his suggested good breed- ing, but Stacy did not look at it until he had finished his memorandum. “There,” he said, with business decision, “you can tell your people that if we carry their new debentures over our limit we will expect a larger margin. Ditches are not what they were three years ago, when miners were willing to waste their money over your rates. They don’t gamble that way any more, and your company ought to know it and not gamble themselves over that prospect.” He handed the paper to the stranger, who bowed over it with studied politeness and backed toward the door. Stacy took up the waiting card, read it, said to the messenger, “Show him in,” and in the same breath called out, “I say, Van Loo, it’s George Barker. You know him?” “Yes,” said Van Loo with a polite hesi- tation, as he halted at the door. “He was— I think—er—in your employ at Heavy Tree Hill.” “Nonsense! He was my partner. And you must have known him since at Boom- ville. Come. He got forty shares of Ditch stock—through you—at 110, which were worth about 80. Somebody must have made meney enough by it to remember him.” “I was only speaking of him socially,” said Van Loo, with a deprecating smile. “You know he married a young woman— the hotel keeper's daughter—who used to walt at the table; and after my mother and sister came out to keep house for me at Boomville it was quite impossible for me to see much of him, for he seldom went out without his wife, you know. “Yes,” said Stacy, dryly, “I think you didn’t like his marriage. But I'm glad your disinclination to = him isn’t on account of that deal in stocks.” “Oh, no,” said Van Loo. “Good-bye.” But unfortunately in the next passage he came upon Barker, who, with a cry of unfeigned pleasure, none the less sincere that he was feeling a little alien in these impressive surroundings, recognized him. Nothing could exceed Van Loo’s protest of delight at the meeting; nothing his equal desolation at the fact that he was hasten- ing to anothey engagement, “But your old partner,” he added with a smile, “is wait- ing for-you. He has just received your card, and ‘I should be only keeping you from him. So glad to see you; you're jook- ing so well. Good-bye. Good-bye.’ Reassured, Barker no longer hesitated, but dashed with his ‘bld impetuousness into his former partner's room. Stacy, already deeply absorbed in other business, was sit- ting with his back toward him, and Bar- ker’s arms were actually encircling his neck before the astonished and .half-angry man looked up. But when his eyes met the laughing gray ones of Barker above him he gently dizengaged himself with « quick re- turn of the caress, rose, shut the door of an inner office, and, returning, pushed ker into an armchair in quite the old sup- pressive fashion of former days. Yes, it was the same Stacy that Barker looked at. Albeit his brown beard was now cicsely around his determined mouth and jaw a kind of grave decorum, and his energetic limbs already attuned to the rigor of clothes rigorous somberness of color. of fashionable cut snd still more ‘Barker, he began, with the fa- i “3 ‘‘Wife and child, 8. D. are you stopping?” He took up a pencil ard held it over a memorandum pad await- ingly. “At the Brook House. It's—” “Hold on. Brook House,” he repeated, as he jotted it down. “And for how long?’ “Oh, a day or two. You see, Kitty-—” Stacy checked him with a movement of his pencil in the air, and then wrote down, “Day or two. Wife with you?” “Yes; and, oh, Stacy, our boy! Ah!” he went on, with a laugh, knocking aside the remonstrating pencil. ‘ou must listen. He's just the sweezest, knowingest little chap living. Do you know what we're go- ing to christen him? Well, he'll be Stacy Demorest Barker. Good’ names, aren't they? And then it perpetuates the dear old friendship.” Stacy picked up the pencil again, wrote: B.,” and leaned back “Now, Barker,” he said, ‘I'm coming to dine with you to- night at 7:30 sharp. Then we'll talk Heavy Tree Hill, wife, baby, and 8S. D. B. But here I'm all for business. Have you any with me?” in his chair. briefly, (To be continued.) Se THE GREEN COLOR OF PLANTS. Physical Basis of the Coloring Matter of Vegetation. D. T. MacDougal in April Harper. The yearly miracle of the appearance of iprumerable shades and hues of green in awakening vegetation exerts a mysterious influence, amounting to a fascination, over the human race—a fascination made strong by the inherited experience of untold gen- erations of forest dwelling ancestors, reaching backward across the entire pres- ent geolegic period, and which grows in in- tersity es we creep from the creation to the millennium. Our vague and emotional inherited inter- est In the annual revivification of the veg- etable world becomes vividly intense and direct, however, when it is learned that the universal blush of green is due to the most important coloring substance in the wo1ld—chlorophyl. It is literally true that the existence of every living thing on the face of the globe is ultimately depen- dent upon the activity of plant green. The action of chlorophyl may best be understood when its physical properties are demonstrated. In order to do this, a solution of the substance is cbtained by placing a gramme of chopped leaves of geranium or grass in-a few cubic centi- meters of alcohol for an hour. The so- lution «ill be a bright, clear green color; anc when the vessel containing it is held in such a manner that the sunlight is re- flected from the surface of the liquid, it will appear blood red, due to its property of fluorescence—that of changing the wave lengths of the violet end of the specirum in such a manner as to make them coin- cide with those of the red end. It is by examination of light which has passed through a solution of chlorophyl, however, that the greatest insight into its physical properties may be obtained. If such a ray is passed through a prism and spread upon a screen, it may be seen that there are several intervals of dark bands in the spectrum. The rays which would have oc- cupied these spaces have becn absorbed by the chlorophyl and converted into heat and other forms of energy. This energy is directly available to the protoplasm con- @SO0S6 OO5555 SOS S52E0505 Sarsaparilla Shadows A laboring man had walked many miles to the nearest town to purchase a bottle of Ayer’s Sarsaparilla, it being the spring season, when he used this medicine to purify his blood. way back he came to a stream, across which was laid a plank. As he crossed the plank he looked down into the clear water and saw what appeared to be a much larger bottle of sarsaparilla than . the one he carried. He stooped to observe the bot- < tle more closely, but as he drew nearer the bottle, he observed that it became smaller. said he, as he went on his way, “You are like all the other shadow sarsaparillas; the closer you come to a bottle of Ayer’s the smaller you get.” Ayer’s Sarsaparilla is a real sarsaparilla. It has a record of nearly half a century Being the standard sarsaparilla it has many tations. These are but shadow sarsaparillas. The shadow branches of a shadow tree won’t cut much firewood. Shadow sarsaparilla won’t cure much sickness. Those who have used Ayer’s Sarsapa- rilla say “it’s worth five bottles of any other kind.” It pays everyway to get Ayer’s Sarsaparilla. Ayer’s “Curebook.” A story of cures told by the cured. Free. J. C. Ayer Co., Lowell, Mass. SIGSTONDS 2B@SEEOM 2] On his Bawa Of GMOS BS SU SS SSO S “Oh, ohi” of cures. imi= & tS PD ea a we 3 > € & taining the chlorophy!. As a concomitant of its properties, ch! is usually only to be found im ore: posed to the light. It would be not s, but dangerous elsewhere, as it ntegrates in darkness into substanc hurtful to the organism. It is found in greatest quantity in leaves, in layers of spec 18 beneath the epidermis. It is not distributed throughout the entire cell, but occurs In the masses of protop!as which the botanist terms chloroplasts. Th chloroplasts are sponge-like structur: the chlorop! an oll in mic sponge Chlorephyl is an extremely complex sul Stance, and correspondingly unstabl Hence, as soon as the chemist extracts from the plant in the attempt to make an analysis, disintegration sets in, and he is no lenger dealing with chlorophyl, but with the substances derived from it by decomposition. Investigation upon the na- ture and activity of plant green has been in progress more than a century its exact chemical composition is unknown. The beautifvi and striking colors of au- tumnal foliage are due in greater part to the substances formed by the disintegra- tion of chiorophyl. The many thousand tints of green leaves are due to a number of causes. In some instances the outer layers of the cells of the leaf, or merely the walls of the cells, may contain coloring matter. The number and size of the chior- oplasts, and consequently the amount of chicrophyl, may be greater in some leaves than in others. Besides, the chloroplasts may be moved about in the cell and their distance from the surface of the leaf al- tered, or they may be placed in lines per- pendicular or broadside to the surface. In this marner the infinite and elusive varia- tions of color, so fascinating to the lover of nature, are produced in vegetation. The color of a leaf may vary momentarily throughout the entire day, as, indeed, does that of the entire landscape before the Puzzied artist. Too Much Discomfort. From the Boston Budget. There was once an Irishman who sought employment as a diver, bringing with him his rative enthusiasm and a certain amount of experience. Although he had never been beneath the water, he had crossed an ocean of one variety and swal- lewed nearly an ocean of another. But he had the Hibernian smile, which is con- vincing, and the firm chanced to need @ rew man. And so on the following Mon- day morning Pat hid his smile for the first time in a diving helmet. Now, the job vpon which the crew to which Pat had attached himself was work- ing was in comparatively shallow water, and Pat was provided with a pick and told to use ft on a ledge below in the manner with which he was already familiar. Down he went with his pick, and for about fifteen minutes nothing was heard fronr him. Then came a strong, deter- mined, deliberate pull on the signal rope, indicating that Pat had a very decided wish to come to the top. The assistants pulled him hastily to the raft and removed his helmet. “Take aff the rist av it,” said Pat. “Take off the rest of it?” “Yis,” said Pat. “Of'll worrik no longer on a domn job phere Oi can’t spit on me From Life. “What did he mean to ask for hand in a condii or -_ by coming me your ition: wes trying te get his courage up, and he got it too high.”