Evening Star Newspaper, September 18, 1897, Page 20

20 “SHREWSBURY.”, | (Copyright, 1807, by Stanley J. Weyman,) Written fer The Evening Ster. Chapter XXXVI—Continued From Last Saturday's Star. In fine, I was so far from being per- suaded that Smith had expected company that I gravely suspected that he had made quite other arrangements of the most per- fidious character. And as the horses’ noofs rang monotonously on the hard read, and we rose and fell in the saddle, and peered forward into the gloom, fearing all things and doubting all things, for certain I feared and doubted nothing so much as I did the dark and secret man beside me, whose scheming brain, spinning plot within ploz, each darker and more involved than the other, kept all my ingenuity at a stretch to overtake the final end and purpose he had at heart. Indeed, I despair of conveying to others how gravely this somber companionsnip ard more somber uncertainty aggravated the terrors of a journey that at the best of times must have been little to my taste. To the common risks of the road. deserted at that hour by all save cut-purses and rogues, was added a stspicion, as much more harassing than these as unseen dang- ers ever surpass the known. It was in vain that I strove to divert my mind front the figure by my side; neither the bleak heath above Greenwich—whence we lookec back at the reddish haze that canopiea Londen, and forward to where the Thames marshes stretch astward under night— nor ihe gibbet on I body hung in chains the light that shone r to the left across the river, and puzzled me until he told me that it neither of these thing: a occupied my thoughts moment had power to drive him from my mind, or divert my feurs to dangers more apparent. And in this mood, now glancing askance at him, and now moving uneasily under his gaze, I might have ridden to Rochester if my ear had not caught—I think when we were two or three miles short of the city—the sound of a horse trotting fast on the road behind us. At first it followed so fa breeze, that I doubted, thinki be either the echo of our noofs or a pulse beating in my ears. Then on a hard piece of ground it declared itself unmistakably; and again as suddenly it died away. At that I spoke involuntarily. “He has stopped,” I said. Smith laughed in his teeth. ing the wet bottom, focl, by the cre said. And before I could answer him the dull sound of a horse galloping fast—but mo ing on the turf that ran alongs —proved him to be right. “Draw up: whispered, in something of a hurry then, as I hesitated, “‘Do you hear continued, sharply. 3 do you fear? Do you think birds prey on night birds?” Whatever I feared, I feared him moi and, turning my horse, I sat shivering. For, notwithstanding I saw that he was ha and I knew that he and it was weil that the suspense short. Before I had time for many qualms, the horseman, a dark figure. lurched on us through the gloom, pulled his horse on to its haunches, and, with raised hands, cried to us to deliver. nd no nonsense!” “or a brace of balls will soon—— Smith laughed. “Box it about‘ " he cried. “Haloo!’ the stranger answered, taking a lower tone: and h2 peered at us, bending éown over his horse’s neck. “Who are you, in fly by night?” “A box-it-about swered, with tartn . for you. So good night. better luck next time.” “But—" ‘ t! Smith answered, cutting him short. am going to my father and the less said nt it the better.”” Well, give him my love, then. And = his horse, the stranger bade us gcod night, and with a curse on his bad fortune, turned and rode off. Smith saw him go, and then, wheeling, we took the road again. ‘Safely, however, as we had emerged from encounter, and far as it went toward thet we bore a talisman against the ordinary perils of travele! ef a kind to reassure a la To ue hung as the accomplice of footpads ard hightobys was a scarcely better fate than to be robbed and wounded by them; vas hearuly glad whea we found s in the outskirts of Rochester and stopping at a house of call outside the sleeping city, roused a drowsy hostler, and late as the hour was, gained entrance and a wel “He is cross- Le e izing my rein. “What ht that * he added, sharply, companion an- “That is enough And I wish you my that safe in these comfortable a sanded hearth before a re- and food and ale at and a bed in prospect, I found ensions and misgivings less hard s. I began to think less of the body creaking in its irons on the gibbet above fcrd, and more of the chance of And Smith, growing civil, if not genial, I went on to count the hours apse, before cur miserable mis- I should see London why should I not see Lo What was to prevent me; where ce? In three days. in three uld be bi So I told mysel ing up quickly, met Smith's ey brooding gloomily cn me. Chapter XXXVI Such a night ride as I have described would have been impossible, or at least outrageousiy dangerous a year or two later, when a horde of disbanded soldiers, ssed from the colors by the peace of Ryswick, tock to the roads for a subsist- . and for a period, until they perished made even the purlieus of Ken- fe. ne of which I write we ran risk enough, as has been demonstrate reasors which induced Smith to lea dcn at that hour and under cover of dar! ress may be conceived! Apparently id not extend to the re: he journey fcr, after lying late at Rochester, we rode A Horse Trotting Behind Me. by Sittingbourne to Feversham, and thence, after a comfortable dinner, turned south by Badlesmere and so toward Ash- ford, where we arrived a few minutes after nightfall. Those who are acquainted with the old inn at the entrance into Ashford will re- member that the yard and stables are as ecnspicuous for size and commodiousness as the house, a black and white building, a little withdrawn from the street, is strik- ingly marked by the lack of those advan- tages. I believe that the huge concourse thither of cattle drovers at the season of the great fairs is the cause of this; those ‘rsons lying close themselves, but need- ing space for their beasts. And at such times I can imagine that the roomy en- eeinte, and those long lines of buildings, may be cheerful enough. But seen, as we saw them, when we rode in, by the last cold light of a dull evening, Mage nan Beer plain eee root a against a sky, they and the place looked infinitely dismal. Nor did any warmth of welcome, or cheer- ful such as even peer inns afford and sundry, amend first impres- sion of gloom and decay, which the house and its surroundings conveyed to the mind. On the contrary, not a’soul was to be seen, and we had ridden half way acfoss the yard, and Smith had twice called “House! house!” before any one was aroused. Then the upper half of a stable door creaked open, and a man holding up a great horn lanthorn, peered out at us. ‘ “Are you all asleep?’ cried my com- panion. And when the man made no an- swer, but still continued to look at us, “What is in the house,” he added, angrily, “that you stick out your death's head, to frighten company? Is it lace or old Nantz? Or French goods? Anyway, box it about and be done with it, and attend to us.” “Right, master, right, I am coming,” the man answered, suddenly rousing himself and opening the lower half of the door, he came heavily out. “At your service,” he said. “But we have little company.” “The times are bad?” “Ay, they looked a bit better, six months back.” “But nothing came of it?” ‘No, worse luck.” “And all that is called for now is com- mon hollands, I suppose?” ‘The fellow grinned. “Right,” he “You have the hang of it. master.” My companion slid to the ground, and began to remove his pistols and saddle- bag. “Still, you have some guests, I sup- pose?” he said. “Aye, one,” the man answered slowly, and, I thought, reluctantly. “Is he, by any chance, a man of the name said. : “Ah, Sir John, then!” Smith said. e: “They will, sir, with this Dutch crew and their low beast of a master swept into the sea! And gentlemen in their homes again! I have been amusing myself even now,” he continued, his eyes wandering to the table on which lay a litter of papers, an ink- horn and two snuffy candles, “with plans for a new wing at Fenwick Hall, in the ojd style, I think, or possibly on the lines of the other house at Hexham. I am divided between the two. The hall is the more commodious, the old abbey has greater Sstateliness. However, I must put up my scripts now, for I must be in the saddle in an hour. Have you commands for the other side of the water, Mr. Smith? If so, Iam at your service.” Smith answered with a little hesitation, “Certainly, my business has to do with that, Sir John.” And he was proceeding to explain, when the baronet, rubbing his hands in glee, cut him short. “Ha! I thought so,” he cried, beaming with satisfaction. “Faith, it is so with every one. They are all of a tale. My ser- vice and my respects and my duty all to go you know where, and it is ‘Make it straight for me, Sir John,” and ‘You will tell the king, Sir John?’ and ‘Answer for me as for yourself, Sir John!’ all day long when they can come at me. Why, man, you know something, but you would be surprised what messages I am carrying over. And when people have not spoken they have told me as much by a look, and those the least AND PLUNGED THROUGH THE SAND. ‘—but never mind his name,” Smith said. is he a surgeon?” The hostler or host, for he had the air of playing both parts, a big, elumsy fellow with immobile features and small eyes, looked at us thoughtfully and chewed a straw. “Well, may be,” he said at last. “I never asked him.” And without more he tcok Smith's horse by the rein and lurched through the door into the stable; the lan- thorn swinging in his hand as he did so, and faintly disclosing a long vista of empty stalls and darkling roof. As I followed, leading in -my sorry mare, a horse in a distant stall whinnied loud “That is his hack, I suppose?” said Smith, and coolly taking up the lanthorn, which the other had that mement set down, he moved through the stable in the direc- tion whence the sound had come. The man of the house uttered something between an oath and a grunt of surprise: he had just raised that ae might the girths, he went after him. master,” he sai very man to his—— But Smith was already standing wi the lanthorn held high, gazing at aba: scemely shaped chestnut hors: that, ing its ears, turned a gentle eye on us az whinnied again. mph, not so bal,” m companion s: horse, I suppose? The man witn the straw looked the an- imal over retlectively. At length, with jomething between a nt and a sigh, le came on it,” he said. o on it in a hurry. said the man, more quickly than he had yet spoken; and he looked from the herse to my companion with a hint of hostility. “Have you no eyes?” reughly. “The off fore has_ filled; horse is as lame as a mumper!” “Gammon!” cried the other, evidently stung. And then, “You know a deal about horses in London! And never saw one or a blade of green grass, maybe, until you came Kent way!” “As you please,” Smith said, indifferent- ly. “But my business is not with the horse, but the master. So take us in, my gcod friend, and give us supper, for I am famished. And afterward, if you please, we will see him.” “That is as he pleases,” the fellow an- swered, sulkily. But he raised no second objection; and when we d littered down the horses he led the way into the house by a back door and so along a passage and down a step or two, which landed us in a reom with a sanded floor, a fire and a show of warmth and comfort, as welcome as it was unexpected. Here he left us to remove our cloaks, and we presently heard him giving orders and bustling in the kitchen. ‘The floor of the room in which he had left us was sunk a little below the leve of the road outside, and the ceiling being lew and the window of greater width than height, and the mantel shelf haviag for ornament a row of clean delft and pewter, I thought that no place had ever looked mere snug and cozy. But whatever com- fort I looked to derive from surroundings se much better than I had expected wa: gashed by Smith's first words, who, soon as we were alone, came close to m under the pretense of unclasping my cloak, and in a low, guarded tone, and with a lock of the grimmest, warned me to play my part. “We go upstairs after supper, and in five minutes it will be done,” he muttered. ‘Go through with it boldly, nd in twen- ty-four hours you may be back in London. But fail, or play me false, Mr. Price, and, by heaven, I put a ball through your head first and my own afterward. Do you mark me? De you mark me, man?’ I whispered in abject nervousness—see- ing that he was indeed in earnest—that I wculd do my best; and he handed me a mng, which was doubtless the same that the countess had given to her woman. It had a great dog cut cameo-wise on the stone, which I think was an opal; and it fitted my finger not ill. But I had no more than time to glance at it before the host and his wife, a pale, scared-looking wo- man, came in with some bacon and eggs and ale; and as one or the other stayed with us while we ate and watched us closely, ncthing more passed, Smith talk- ing indifferently to them, sometimes about the fruit harvest, and sometimes in cant phrases about the late plot. the arrest of Hunt at Dymchurch (who had been used to harbor people until they crossed), how often Gill's ship came over, Mr. Birken- head’s many escapes, and the like. Prot ably the man and woman were testin, Smith, but if so he satisfied them, for when we had finished our meal and he asked openly if Sir John would see us they raised no objection, but the man, taking a light from the woman's hand, led the war up a low-browed staircase to a room over that in which we had supped. Here he knecked, and, a voice bidding us enter, Smith went in, and I after him, my heart beating furiously. The room, which resembled the one be- neath it in being low in the ceiling, looked the lower for the gaunt height of its one occupant, who had risen and stood in the middle of the floor to receive us. ‘Thin and spare by nature, the meager and rather poor-looking dress which he wore added to the singularity of his aspect. With a dry- as-dust complexion and a three-days-old beard, he had eyes light-colored, quick- glancing and sanguine, and, notwithstand- ing the danger and uncertainty of his posi- tion, a fugitive in this wayside house, with a thousand guineas on his head, for I never doubted I was looking on Sir John Fen- wick, his manner was at one moment ar- rogant and boastful and at another dreamy. He had something of the air of a visionary, nor could any one be long in his company without discerning that here was the very man for our purpose, one to whom all his geese were swans, and a clasp of the hand, if it marched with his hopes and wishes, of as much value as a pledge signed and sealed. AN this taken for granted, it is to be con- fessed that at first sight of us his face fell, and his chagrin was unmistakable. “It is you, Smith, is it?” he said- with a sigh. “Well, well, and I thought it was Birken- head. Brown said it was not, but I thought that It must be. It is not every one knows Birkenhead when he sees him.” Ee that is true.’ i : » I shall iain! in the morn- ing. I go on board at New Romney at 4, and doubtless he will be with Gill. When we come back—* Smith answered, the with gravit likely! Men who ten years ago were as black exclusionists as old Noll himself!” “I can believe it, Sir John,” said Smith. while I who knew how the late conspiracy had united the whole coun- try in King William's defense—so that the man who refuse! to sign the Commo: Association to that end went in veri] of jolence—listened with as much bewilder- ment as I had felt three minutes before, on hearing how tris same man, a fugitive and an outlaw, bound beyond scas, had been employing his time! However, he was as far from guessing what w: in my mind as he was from doubting Smith’s sincerity; and encouraged by the latter's assent, he continued: “It is parlous strange to me, Mr. Smith, how the drunken Dutch boor stands a day! Strange and passing strange! But it can- not last. It will not last out the year. These executions have opened men’s eyes firely And by Christmas we shall be back.” “A merry Christmas it will be,” said Smith. “Heaven grant it. But you have net asked, Sir John, wko it is I have with re.” At that and at a sign he made me, I let fall the collar of the cloak I was wear- ing, which, in obedience to his directions I had hitherto kept high about my chin. Sir John, his eyes drawn to me, as much by my action as by Smith’s words, stared at me a monient before his mouth opened wide in recognition and surprise. Then, “I am surely not mistaken!” he cried, ad- vancing a step while the color rose in his sallow face. “It is—it certainly is—” “Sir John,” Smith cried in haste—and he, too, advanced a step and raised a hand in warning—“this is Colonel Talbot! Colo- nel Talbot, mark you, sir! I am sure you understand me, and the reasons which make it impossible for any but Colonei Talbot to visit you here. He has done me the honor to eccompany me. But perhaps,” he continued, checking himself with an air of deference, “it were more fitting 1 left_you now.” “No,” I said hurriedly, repeating the lesson I had learned by rote, and in which Smith had not failed to practice me a dozen times that day. “I am here to one end only—to ask Sir John Fenwick to do Colonel Talbot a kindness; to take this ring and convey it with my service and duty—whither he is going.” “Oh, but this is extracrdinary!” Sir John erfed, lifting his hands and eyes in a kind of ecstasy. “This is a dispensation! A providence! But, my lord,” he continued with rapture, “there is one more step you may take, one more effort you may make. Be the restorer, the monk of this genera- tien! So ripe is the pear that were you to ride through the city tomorrow and proclaim our rightful sovereign, not a citi- zen but would bless you, not a soldier buc would throw down his pike! The blues are with us to a man, and enraged besides at Keyes’ execution. And the rest of the army—do you dream that they see Dutch colonels promcted and Dutch soldiers over- paid and do not resent it? I tell you, my lord—your grace, I should say, for doubt- less the kirg will confirm it.” “Sir John,” I said hastily, assuming an anger I did not feel, “you mistake me. I am Colonel Talbot and no other. And 1 am here not to listen to plans or make sug- gestions, but to request a favor at your hards. Be good enough to convey that ring with my service whither you are go- ing.” nd that is all?” he cried reproach- fully. “You will say no mor “That is all, sir,” I answered, and then, catching Smith's eye, I added, “Save this. You may add that, when the time comes, I shall know? what to do, and I shall do it.” ‘This time, sobered ‘by my words and manner, he took in silence the ring I proffered; but, having glanced at it, gave way to a second burst of rapture, and jubi- lation, more selfish and pe: than the first, but not less hearty.“ will be the best news Lord Midd!ston has had for a hat I should succeed where I am toid that failed. Gad! I am the proudest man in your grace—Colonel Talbot, I mean. We will pound Melfort and that faction with this. We will pound them to powder. He has wasted half » million and not got such an adherent. Gccd lord, I shall not rest now until I am across with the news. “Nor I until Colonel Talbot is on the road aguin,” said Smith, intervening deft- ly. “At the best this is no very safe place for him.” “That is true,” said Sir John, with read: consideration. “And I should be riding Within the haif hour. Lut to Romney. You, I suppose, return to London?” “To London,” I said, mechanically. Direct?” said he, with deference. s directly as we dare,” Smith answer- ed, and with the word moved to the door and opened it. On which I bowed, and was for going out, perhaps with a little awkwardness. But Sir John, too deeply impresssed by the honor I had done him to let me retire so lumely, started forward, and, snatching up a candle, would hold the door and light me, bending his jong back and calling to Brown to lock to us—to look to us. _Nor was this all, for when I halted halt way down the stairs, and turned, feeling that such courtesy demanded some acknowledgment, or at least a word of thanks, he took the word out of my mouth, “Hist! Colonel Talbot!" he cried, in a loud whisper, and, leaning far over the stairs, he held the light with one hand and shaded his eyes with the other. “You Know that we have the tower?” “The tower?’ I muttered, not under- aeons, him. z 5 “To be sure. Ailesbury has {t in his hand. It will declare for us whenever he gets the word. But—you know it from him, I suppose?" “from Lord Ailesbury?’ I exclaimed, in sheer surprise. “But he is a prisoner!” Sir John winked, “Prisoner and master!” he muttered, nedding vigorously. “But there, I must not keep you. Good luck and bon voyage, M. le duc.” Which was the last I saw of him for that time. Nor did I ever see him again oe ee Spoon lent and fractious man, and a foe to thi Protestant succession, tee I do not ra that some passages in his le most bruited credit, and the for all this, ever a stranger to and left the poor;-misguided gentleman alone in his mean Beom to pack up tkcse plans—for the extension of ,the old house that would never vuwn,@ Fenwick fcr its magter—and so to set ouf on his journey, I felt as much pity for him as loathing of the trickster whoemployed me. And so far Naess eeeg ee 390 much influence had it with me, that when we reached the room bejow, and, the laudlord having ieft us to seg to his horses, Smith, in his joy at our success, ipped me on the shoulder, I shrank from his hand as if it burned me; shrank, and burst into child- ish tears of rage. ¢ Naturally Smith, tnable te comprehend, stared at me in (Bstonishment. “Why, man,” he cried, “what isthe matter? What ails you?” “You!” I said. “Ypu, curse you!” Chapter XXXVIII. And doubtless it was ‘this outbreak, or rather the suspicion of me which it sowed in Smith’s mind, that occasioned the Sequel of our adventure, for when he had cursed me for a fool and had put on his cloak, being now ready to go out, he seem- ed to be in two minds about it, as if he dared neither leave me where I was, lest I should communicate with Sir John, nor take me with him on his immediate errand. More than once he went to the door, and eyeing me askance and scurly, came back, but in the end, and after-stand- ing a while irresolute, biting his nails, he made up his mind, and curtly bade me fol- low him. “Do you think that I am to saddle for you, you whelp?” he cried. “Be stirring! And have a care, or 1 shall bore that hole in you yet. Take that bag and go before me. By G—, I wish you were at the bot- tem of the nearest horse pond!” His words had the effect he intended, of bringing me to my senses; but they went further. For in proportion as they cooled my temper they awakened my fears, and though I obeyed him abjectly, took up my bag and followed him, it was with a sud- den and horrible distrust of his purpose. I saw that I had not only ceased to be of use to him, but was now in his way, and might be a danger to him, and the night— which enveloped us the moment we crossed the threshold and seemed the more dreary and forbidding for the ruddy light and comfort we had: left behind us—reminding me of the long, dark miles I must ride by his side, each mile a terror to one and an opportunity to the other, I had much ado hot to give way to instant panic there and then. However, for the time I. controlled myself, and stumbling across the gloomy yard to the spot where a faint gleam of light indicated the door of ‘the stables, I went in, ‘The landlord was saddling our horses, and a little cheered by the warmth of his lantern, I went to help him. Smith turned aside; as I thought, into the next stall. But Brown was sharper or more suspicious, ard in a twinkling called to him lustily, to know what he was doing. Getting no an- swer, “Devil take him,” the landlord cried. “He cannot keep from that horse! Here, you! What are you doing there?” “Coming!” Smith answered; but even as he spoke I caught the smart click of iron falling on iron, and the horse in the dis: tant stall moved sharply with a hurri clatter of hoofs on the stones. Smith repeated. “What is the matter with you, man?” “You ha better come,” the landlord answered, savagely, “or I shall fetch you. Here, you!” this to me, “lead yours out, will you? I want to see your backs and pe quit of you!” I took my horse by the bridle and led it cut of the stable, while-Brown went to bit the other. Ang so, being alone outside, and the moon rising at the moment over the roof of the house and showing me the open Bates at the end of, the yard, the impulse to escape from Smith while I had the op- portunity came on me with overpowering force. Better acquainted than the Jand- lord with the villain’s plan, I had not a Goubt that at that very moment he was laming Sir John’s horse for the purpose of detaining him; and the cold-blooded treach- ery of the act, filling me with as much ter- ror on my own account—who might be the next victim—as hatred of the perpetrator, I climbed softly to my saddle, and began ‘to walk my hcrse toward the gates. Doubt- less Smith was too busy cloaking his own movements to be observant of mine. I reached the gates unnoticed, and turning instinctively from London—in which direc- ticn I fancied that he would be sure to pursue me—I kicked my mare first into a quick walk, then into a cautious trot, final- ly into a canter. The beasf, though far from speedy, was fresh from its corn; it took hold of the bit, shied at a chance light. in a cotter’s window, and went faster and fester, its ears pricked forward. In a min- ute we had left Ashford behind us, and Were clattering through the moonlight. With one hand on the pommel and the oth- er holding the shortened reins, I urged the mare on-with all the pressure of my legs; and albeit I trembled, now at some late. seen obstacle, which proved to be only the shadow of a tree, thrown across the road, and now at the steepness of a descent that appeared suddenly before me, I never fal- tered, but uphill and downhill drove in my pecs ae ee fear behind me, rode in the night as iad never before dar e in the daylight. ba eae I had known nothing like it since the summer day twelve years before, when I had fled across the Hertfordshire meadows on my feet. The sweat ran down me, I stooped in the saddle out of pure weak- ness.* If the horse pricked its ears forward I spread mine backward, listening for sounds of pursuit. But such a speed could not be long maintained, and when we had gone, as I judged, two miles, the mare be- gan to flag, and the canter became a trot. Sull for another mile I urged her on, until feeling her labor under me, and foreseeing that I must ride far, I had the thought to turn into the first lane to which I came, and there wait in the shadow of a tree until Smith, if he followed, should pass. I did this, sprang down, and, standing by my panting horse in a marshy hollow some 200 paces from the-road, listened intently. For twenty minutes, it may be, but they seemed to be hours to me. After the life I had been leading in London, this loneliness in the night in a strange and wild place, and with a relentless enemy on my trac! appalled my very soul. I was hot, and yet I shivered and started at the least sound. ‘The screatn of a curlew daunted me, the rustling of the rushes and sedge shook me: when 2 sad wail, as of a multitude of lost souls passed over head, I cowed almost to my knees. Yet inasmuch as these sounds, doleful and dreary as they were, were all I heard, and the night air brought no tram- pling of distant hoofs to my ear, I had rea- son to be thankful, and more than thank- ful; and my mare having by this time got her wind again, I led her back to the road, climbed into the saddle and plodded on steadily, deriving a wonderful relief and confidence from the thought that Smith had followed me Londonward. Moreover, I had conceived a sort of hor- ror of the loneliness of the waste couniry side, and to keep the highway was willing to run some risk. I took it that the road [ was traveling must bring me to Romney, and for a good hour and a half I jogged with a loose rein through the gloom, the way becoming even flatter and wetter, the wind more chill and salt, and the night darker, the moon being constantly over- cast by clouds. In that marshy district are few hamlets or farms, and those of the smallest and very sparsely scattered. Once or twice I heard the bark of 4 distant sheep dog, and once far to the left I saw a tiny light, and had the Idea of>making for it. But the reflection that a dozen great ditches, each wide enough and deep enough to smother my horse, might lie between me and the house availed to keep me in the road; the more as I; now felt.sure from the saltness of the night air that Romney and the sea were at no great distance in front of me. Presently, indeed, I made out in front of me two moving lights, which 1 took to be ‘those of'ships riding at anchor, and my weary mare quickened her pace as if she smelled the stable and the hay rack. For five minutes after that I plodded on in the happy belief that my journey was as good as over and I was saved, and I let my mind dwell on shelter and safety, and a bed and food and the like, all awaiting me, as I fancied, in the patch of-low gloom be- fore me, where my fancy pictured the sleeping town. Then, on a sudden, my ear caught the dull beat of a horse’s hoofs on the road behind me, and my heart stand- ing still with terror, I plucked at my reins and stood to listen. Aye, and it was no fancy; a moment itisfied me of that. Thud, taud, thud-thud, and then squash, squash, squish-squish! A horse was com- ing up behind me, and not only behind me, but ‘hard upon me—within less than 100 paces of me. The soft wet road had smoth- ered the sound up to the lest moment. ‘The rider was close to me indeed and so much taken by surprise that the THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 1897-24 PAGES. times will be changed, | fess that, as I stumbled dewn the stairs | ot escape from that which followed on FACTS ABOUT FROGS me; but I at that rorent to look back. I ed the lower, and clung the more my horse’s mane, and still By and by, however, hearing nothing, it flashed on me that I was riding alone, that I was no longer pursued; and a little later taking courage to draw rein and look back warily, I found that I could see nothing, nor hear any sound save the heavy panting of ™my own horse. I had escaped. I had escaped and was alone on the marsh. But as I soon satis- fed myself, I was no longer on the cause- way along which I had been traveling when the man surprised me. The wind which had then met me was not on my right cheek; the Nght for which I had been heading were no longer visible. The track, too, when I moved cautiously forward seemed more wet and rough; after that it needed little to convince me that I had strayed from the highway, probably at the Point where my pursuer had fallen. This, since I dared not teturn by the way I had come, terribly perplexed me. I dismounted, and wet with shivering stood by my horse; which hung its head, and restlessly lifted its feet by turns as if it al- ready felt the engulfing power of the moss. Peering out every way I saw nothing but gloom and mist, the dark waste and un- known depths of the marsh. It was a situation to try the stoutest, nor did it need the mournful sough of the wind as it Swept the flats, or the strange gurgling noises that from time to time rose from the sloughs about me to add the last touch of. fear and melancholy to the sccne. Though, for my own part, I rank in no farther than my arkles, the horse by its restlessness evinced a Strong sense of dan- ser and I dared not stand still. But as cicuds had again obscured the moon and the darkness was absolute, to advance Seemed as dangerous as to remain. How- ever, in fear that the horse, if I stood Where I was, would break loose from me, I led it forward cautiously, and then the track growing no worse but rather better, and the beast seeming to gain confidence as it proceeded, I presently took courage to remount again, and dropping the reins allowed it to carry me whither it would. This it did slowly and with infinite cau- tion, smelling rather than feeling the way, and often stopping to try a doubtful spot. Observing how wonderfully the instinct of the beast alded it, and remembering that I hed once been told that horses feared nothing £0 much as to be smoored (as the fenmen call it) and would not willingly run that risk, I gained confidence myself; which the event justified, for by and by I caught the duli sound of sea waves booming on a beach, and a few minutes afterward discerned in the sky before me the first faint streaks of dawn. Heaven knows how welcome it was to me. I was wet, weary and shivering with cold, and with the aguish air of that dreary place, which is so unwholesome. that I am told the natives take drugs to Stave off the fever, as others do ale and wine. But at the sight I pricked up, and the horse, too; and we moved on briskly, and ppesently by the help of the growing light, and through a gray mist which trebled the size of all objects, I saw a huge wall or bank loom across my path. I was close to it when I discerned it, and I had no more than time to despair of surmounting it, before the horse was al- ready clambering up it. Scrambling and slipping among the stones, in a minute or so, and with a great clatter, we gained the summit, and saw below and before us the smooth milky surface of the sea, lifting Jazily under the fog. So seen it had a strangely weird and pallid aspect, as of a dead sea, viewed in dreams; and I stood a moment to breathe tay horse, and admire the spectacle: nor did I fail to thank God that I was out of that dreary and treacherous place. Then, con- sidering my future movements, and not knowiag which way I ought to take—to right or left along the beach—to gain the more quickly help and shelter, I was rein- iug my mare down the seaside of the bank, when a welcome sound caught my ear. It was a man’s voice giving an order. I halted and peesed through the sea haze, and by and by I made ott a boat lying beached at the edge of the tide, some 150 yards to my left. ‘There were men stand- ing in it. I could noi see how many; and more were in the act of pushing it off the strand. Their voices came to me with sin- gular clearness, but th words were unin- telligible. The sight gave me pause, and for a mo- ment I stood reconnoitering the men. To advance or ret was the question, and I was still debating it and striving to deduce scmething from the men’s appearai when something, I never knew what—-per- haps some noise ill-appreheaded—lel me to turn my head. Whatever the cause of the movement, it apprised me of something little suspected. Not fifty paces behind me I saw the figure of a giant horseman !ocom- ing out of the mist. He was advancing along the summit of the sea wall below which I stood; hence I saw him hefors he niade me out; and this gave me the start and the advantage. I had time to take in the thing, and seize my horse by the head, and move eight or ten paces toward the boat before he took the cue. Then on neither side was there any concealment. With a ery, a yell, rather, the mere scund of which flung m: into a penic, the man urged his horse down the bank, shouting fiercely to me to stand. I, in utter terror, spurred mine across the beach toward the men I had seen. I have said that I had some sixty yards of start, and two hundred or so to cross to reach the boat; but the horses were scarcely able to trot, a yard was a fur- long, and the sand swallowing up ‘he sound of hoofs, it was a veritable race of ghosts, of phantoms, laboring through the mist across the flat, with the oily Stygian sea lapping the shore beside us. He cried out in the most violent fashion, now bid- ding me stay. and now bidding the men stop me. And for all I knew, they might be in his pay, or, at best, be some of the reckless desperadoes who on that coast live by owling and worse practices. But they were my only hope, and I, too, cried to them, and with joy I saw them put in again—they had before set afloat. Believing Smith to be gaining, I cried pitifully to them to save me, and then, my horse stumbling, I flung myself from the saddle, and plunged through the sand toward them. At that, two sprang out to meet me and caught me under my arms, and in a moment, amid a jargon of cries in a foreign tongue, whipped me over the side into the boat. Then they pushed it off and leaped in themselves, wet to the thighs; and as my pursuer came lurching down the beach, a pistol drawn in his hand, a couple of powerful strokes drove the boat through the light surf. Waving frantically he yelled to the men to wait, and rode to his boct soles into the water, but with a jeering laugh and a volley of foreign words the sailors pulled the faster and the faster, and the mist lying thick on the water, and the boaj sitting low, in half a minute we lost the last glimpse of him and his passion, and rode outward on a gray boundless sea. (To be continued.) ——. His Dog Saved Him $200. From the Philadelphia Record While Albert Spear of Christiana Hun- Gred, Del., with a wallet containing $200 in his pocket, was on his way home last even- ing, he passed a number of tramps in the west yard, who became threatening. He was accompanied by his dog, an intelligent collie. Quickly pulling the wallet from his pccket, Spear placed. {it in the canine’s mouth, and said, “Take that home, quick.” The dog started down the road at a rapid rate and a tramp who saw the wallet in its mouth started in pursuit. The canine rap- idly outstripped his pursuer, and Mr. Spear also escaped. When Mr. Spear reached home he found the dog lying in the wood- shed of his house with the wallet tightly held between his forepaws. The world ‘jcontains no The Edible Varieties, Their opment and’ i FRENCHMEN NOT ALONE FROG EATERS The United States Consumes More Than the European Republic. Devel- + <I) frequently the “happiness and jiance ~ = ng girl's: ie doomed to be Dlotted out by the lines of sick- wifehood and motherhood who suf- fers from weakness and disease in a womanly way. For such ‘women wifehood only holds out the pros- oS of suffering and motherhood the pro- bility of death. is no reason whr this should be true. If a woman will take proper care of the delicate and important organs that make wifehood and motherhood sible, there is no reason why she may not be& healthy and happy wife and mother. Dr. Pierce’s Fa- vorite Prescriptic 1 is the greatest of all medicines for women. More of it has been sold than of any ther medicine for women. Over ninety-thousand women have testified to its marvelous results. It acts directly on the distinctly womanly organism, and gives it strength, health and vigor. It allays in- flammation, heals ulceration, soothes pain and tones the nerves. It does away with the ailments of the iod of anticipation and makes baby’s advent easy and almost Painless. It insures the new comer’s health and an ample supply of nourishment. In Dr. Pierce’s Common Sense Medical Ad- viser hundreds of women relate over their signatures their experiences with this mar- velous medicine. It is sold by all good medicine dealers. “Last month I had no prin at all and worked very day without inconvenience. It was the first time I passed that period without pain,” writes Miss Lauretta McNees, of Reno (P.O. Box 33), Washoe Co., Nev. “Dr. Pierce's Favorite iption did it.” “The People’s Medical Adviser” con- tains several chapters devoted to the physi- ology of women, witlr directions for self- treatment which every woman ought to read. A paper-bound copy sent absolutely free on receipt of 21 one-cent stamps to pay for mailing only; or, cloth-bound, 31 stamps, Address Dr. R. V. Picrce, Buffalo, N. Y. A CANADIAN FROG FARM It is a common error on this side of the Atlantic, and if the truth may be told on the other side as well, that the French are a nation of frog eaters. When Johnny Crapaud goes anywhere on the face of the earth where foreign immigration is not regarded with emotions of pleasure he is pretty apt to be publicly designated as a “frog-eating Frenchman” before he gets acclimated. The fact is that the annual consumption of frogs in the United States is ten times that In France, and they are mcre generally consumed here than in any other ccuntry on earth. ‘To the Frenchman belongs the honor—the gastronomical glory, indeed—of rediscover- ing the epicurean delights that are de- veloped by a close acquaintance with the broiled hind legs of a frog. The Romans used to eat them along with fricasees of nightingales’ tongues and ovher such sub- stantials, but the French modernized the custom and first availed themselves of the dainty delicacy. Of course, a prejudice formerly existed against frogs as articles of food. Their uncanny appearance, their Supposed affiliation with witches, and other awful things, and their potency in exercis- ing spells in love affairs, all militated against their introduction into the cuisine of well-regulated families, but they finally hopped up on a Frenchman’s tavle, and then went on triumphant to the storuachs of the rest of the world. There is a very inter- esting chapter in the forthcoming volume to be issued under the direction of United States Fish Commissioner Brice on “The Edible Frogs of the United States and Their Artificial Propagation.” It was con- tributed to the valuable work which wiil be entitled “The Manual of Fish Culture,” by F. M. Chamberlain, assistant at the fish commission in Washington. A perusal of Mr. Chamberlain's statements will be found most interesting to every reader, and to those who want to go into the business of incubating it will prove simply invaluable. Mr. Chamberlain says that the frogs are represeyitatives of the great class of cold- blooded vertebrates ,known as the Batra- chia. The batrachians are intermediate anatomically and physiologically between the fishes and the reptiles; first cousins, for instance, to the shad, salmon, codfish and Spanish mackerel, and equally consanguine with the snakes and alligators and all those charming things. A Checkered Career. The frog has a checkered career before he reaches the adult period of his exist- ence. When starting out he is aquatic—but everybody has seen a tadpole—and breathes by means of gills. Then he gets lungs and his tail feathers change into hind legs, which he can use very successfully either for swimming or leaping purposes. It need not affect any one’s appetite to learn that the tree frogs are closely related to edible frogs, because toadstools are full-blood rel- atives of mushrooms, which fact doesn’t affeet the latter a bit when the steak is properly broiled. Besides, and like the mushroom family again, there are over 250 species of true frogs, and of these in the United States there are not over twenty edible kinds. There is no longer any question about the recognized value of frog meat for food. It is white, delicate, palatable. Commoniy only the hind legs are eaten, but in some iccalities the entire body, minus the vis- cera, is fried with eggs and bread crumbs— and—well, try it, and then keep yourself broke continuing the pastime! According to inquiries of the United States fish commission the annual catch for the market is about 1,000,000. More frogs are eaten in New York than in any other state, but on account of their com- paratively small size they are not so val- uable as the Missouri and California frogs. In taking frogs lines baited with red cloth, worms or insects are extensively used, and guns, small-bore rifles and spears are also employed. Crossbows are adopted in Canada. Hunting at night is a favorite pursuit, a lantern furnishing light for the hunters’ aim and also blinding and stupefying the frogs. Prices received for frogs greatly vary. Dressed legs yield the hunters from 1213 to & cents a pound, and live frogs from 5 cents to $4 a dozen, the latter being the case in San Francisco. The unrestricted hunting of frogs has threatened their prac- tical extinction. A marked cecrease of the supply has been already observed in the marshes of Lake Erie in northern New York, and in order to meet the in- creasing demand for the legs hundreds of people are experimenting or preparing to engage tf frog culture. Frequent in- quiries are received by the United States fish commission concerning frog culture, and it is said to be evident that the num- ber of salable frogs in a given aren can be largely increased py artificial means. ‘To undertake essential work in this 1e, however, a knowledge of the natural bis- tory of tke frog is essential. It is also interesting to those who merely want to eat them. It will be seen from the foregoing that freg culture requires time, patience and un appreciation of the animal's habits needs. Tadpoles can be raised in drov: The time of metamorphosis is the i period. To raise frogs one must hi pond, a small one will do, surrounded by a clese fence and with a screen above it to keep out wading birds. ]t must allow zhe ycung to come to land when their legs pe- gin to develop, for if there is no opportuni- ty for the tadpoles to breathe the air at rest and exercise the legs, the period of metamerphosis will be indefinitely delay: If a shallow old pond is chosen alrea well stocked with organic matter, it will supply unaided food for a large number of frcgs. Animal refuse may be added in smal! quantities, but not enough to putrefy ard infect the water. Shade is necessary, and a growth of rushes, wild rice and other such plants. A Frog Farm. There is a very successful frog “farm” in the Trout River basin in Ontario. It has been in operation about twenty years, and it has a large annual output. The waters were stocked by means of mature ma‘ed frogs. No attempt is made to confine the frogs until near the time for shipment to niarket. They are then taken alive at night by the aid of a torchlight and con- fined to smail pens that can be drained when the frogs are needed for market. The species 13 the eastern bullfrog (hana Catesbiana); it begins to breed at three and reaches a marketable size at four years. During the years 1895 and 1896 this farm” yielded 5,000 pounds of dressed frog legs and 7,000 living frogs for scientific pur- pcses and for stocking other wafers. Mr. Chamberlain concludes his very in- teresting article with the statement that while at present it would perhaps be ad- visable to limit practical attempts at frog culture to stocking natural waters with paired breeders, experiments in artificial methods should not be abandcned, and seems to see no reason why methods simi- lar to those at present pursued in fish-cul- ture may not eventtally be successful in the case of frogs. ———_-___ Gives Birth to Two Calves in Three Mon: From the Charleston News and Courier. Mr. W. McC. Venning of Mount Pleasant is the proud owner of a cow that has given birth to two calves within the past three months. In June she became the mother of a healthy calf. Since then she has been a steady milker, and a few nights ago astonished the little village by having an- other offspring. The secend calf ‘s a stout, well-built young animal, and is sporting around to the amusement of the vil- lagers. The first one is almost large enough to eat hay, and is disposed to fight its younger brother for the mother's af- fection. The cow is st! furnishing milk to her people, and dces not seem to think her feat near so strange as the citizens of Mount Pleasant do. For a time Alhambra Hall is forgotten and from all sides of the town the children have swarmed to see “de cow wot have two calfs in tree months.” But there is no fake about this cow. If tie story is doubted it will be an easy mat- ter to get bundles of proof and affidavits from Mr. Venning and others. Don’t Go _ to Alaska Habits of the Frog. Frogs hibernate, burying themsclves in the mud at the approach of cold weather. At the close of winter they anneume their reappearance with resonant voices. In scme species the song is distinctly a chant d@’emour; in others it is continued long after the breeding season is over. A fe- mele frog lays several hundred eggs, the process of oviposition continuing through several days. They are fertilized by the nale during that time. In from four to thirty days, according to temperature, the tadpoles wriggle out from the eggs. A bullfrog tadpole in a shallow, old, sun- warmed pond will. sometimes attain a length of several inches before his two hird legs begin to protrude, and this may cccur in two months or not until two years. Se? ual maturity is reached in three or four years, ard it is believed frogs live twelve, fifteen or even twenty years. “But from tadpole juvenility to senile. .old age they are never out of danger. As tadpoles they are simply pie for fish and other frogs, and later they are steadily pursued by wading birds, such as cranes, herons, etc. ‘The species of frogs commonly eaten are the bullfrog; the green frog, the spring freg and the western bullfrogs. The most widely distributed is the spring frog, shad frog, or leopard frog. It is most abundant in the eastern states. It reaches a length of 3% inches eaclusive of its legs. The col- or is usually tright green marked by ir- regular black, dark brown or olive blotches, having whitish or yellowish edges. The un- der surface is whitish or light yellow, and unspotted. F The green frog is found throughout the eastern and central states, The body and legs are stout and massive. The color above is dark olive, posteriorly running into brilliant green anteriorly. It is some- ete acne — Pomted with smalt trown spots. is frog is especially aquatic, not hunting on land, ani is soli- tary in its habits, living singly or in pairs, but never in large companies. Different Varieties. The common bullfrog is the largest of North American frogs, reaching a body lergth of over eight inches. All Grocers Sell It. Cleans Everything. Same range as the spring frog. .The hind thet : toes are fully webbed. The color above is THE X. K. FAIRBANK COMPAST, olive, brown or ferruginous, with darker St. Louis. New York,