Evening Star Newspaper, April 7, 1900, Page 24

22 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, APRIL 7, 1900-24 PAGES, of Little Anna en: eS. BR, Crock « Ist@, by S. RL Crockett.) Synopsis of Previous Installments, in come meets nd his son's his n he ield of New Milns. pany wit in on f Janet Mark 1. _Sir That te som his bedy outs! on to lay the crime tere Ap sed th grandf te wh having ‘eal mv brous need to be bi © to be tra Plilip Is sen ed. M seeks out . but dees not quite to Al tries to murd we is taken her son in ch beats him at they go. . brings: a small Shortiy after his ed and thongh s school to which . with wonderful eyes. the ed by a numt country: o be full of fine S y “1 te Will Bowman, Umpbray’s clerk, sit in the weaving shed. it, sees playing about aing throw: calls Will with a 5 Ip of bis silent p: an, Sanl Mark, super- e ship Corramantee, imprisons and Spurway, robbing Spurwas of ey and a portrait of Philip's {lip the elder, who Is in league with . takes the portralt and sends oung Philip away. Leaving Spurway impris- J, Philip Stansfield the elder goes out in Spurway's cloak to his wife's house, and by threats Induces her to go aboard the Corra- msntee. Anna and Philip make friends with ows them the se of the and where Sir Harry Morgan's treas- ure ts, guarded by fer-de-lance and his hosts. in which he mothe Eborra bas secreted a boat, pe with Anna, Philip, Mrs. ani bis mother, also Will Bow- » is in the clutches of the pirates rates sall away with two or three The beat starts, encounters other pirates, but 1a towed safely away by a mon- ster de in Porto Rico approach a con- Ifish. The boat re and its fnmi safety asking belp. The convent takes In the men. The men go into a chain gang. It is making a ad for the of the gor- ces to pass along. and Janet Mark, little ¢ Mark. now the Lady 3 to her coun- they scon find it is a perilon: Janet grows vio- He and fit out ed Saul scornfully. ‘ond calling any nec- t of dead and living The thing is at best but a m. But I know of somet better for him and for all of u f lad is brave a MN die a brave m: you have heard of : I have found it! convent and Don my lberty. The now fitting out an the Isle of the asure and to bring rs are even to pture rec expedition Winds, to the w ure cannot be reached “How will you per- form yo I shall perform it. I intend that Masters Philip Stansfield the younger and Wit! Bowman shall reach ft. They shall de- scend t © pitch ! Whether they be permitt S r matter! You you s not.” erled t fiercely. “Of this, your wickedness— i—Don Nicholas—shall be in- eried Saul Mark. “Your hus- band, you—I am your husband—I and none. other. shall do as I bid you, Janet, or I & 6 Don Nicholas and tell him the Lady Ju is a sentenced mur- deress, the paramour of a parricide, the gamester’s lure, the lime on the fowler’s the woman cried, “have pity! pity. Who made me these? W: cent before I knew you?” Innocent, innocent,” sneered Saul Mark. low innocent we all are? Go tell Don Nicholas of your innocence after I have Gone with him! Where were your carriages then, your snowy mules, your petticoat governments—all gone up in the fiery reek of the next heretic burning!” Janet Mark was silent. She knew her new husband's Spanish nature and was afraid. “And Anna?’ she said weakly, as if she haa abandoned her former contention. “Anna shall abide here with you. She need know nothing. By and by we shall marry her te don, and that poor cage bird, your lawful spouse, my good Philip, will make an excellent nun. We will keep her safe out of the Yorkshireman’s reach. I am an easy man, but she could do little harm, even if she were free and had a swallow’s wings He looked first at one and then at the other. They were both silent before him. “No he said, rising from his ate Iam. The lad and his all I demand, >» might have all. It is, indeed, how runs your re (you were piously brought up, a work of necessity and mercy to Femove two such youths from an evil world. And the boy is a great seeker of treasure Well, he shall find it now. . . > : I not in nt, . . . n Saul Mark came out and looked him Anna, his daughter, was leaning the brimming basin of the central fountain, lau; and trying to catch gol fish with ¢ eee CHAPTER XLV1I. The New Powder Monkey. It may be understood that Anna’s ne Which she carried that very night to Will in and me he weaving shed, touched us very nea For me I did not feel nearly #0 much terror as in such melancholy cir- cumstances I might have anticipated, and as for Will, I think he did not believe in the reality of the danger. He had that kind of English conceit that makes a man con- sider himself the master, not the slave, of circumstances. “Courage. Philip,” he said. “You and 1 @re far from being dead yet. We are fore- Warned—which ts to say forearmed. If they take us back to the Isle of the Winds, - The ISLE of the WINDS oF as hey must If this be so, why, we shall pe and maintain ourseives in the High Woods till we get a passage home. Then Umphray Spur surely charter a ship h our fighting weaver: weil But somehow this seemed too remote a consummation to any real com- fort; bu y and I did not contr ce of Morgan's and silent for 1 will go and consult my mother,” he said, and so left us quick yell nigh an hour before he looking much downcast and disconcerted. “It is true, aid, “he knows. Some trong Obeah has spoken to him. But not so strong as my mother’s. We shall con- And we must re Eborra but it will be hard. If you go to seek the tr quer y wait. they will not permit you,” I ves, they will allow, n keep the black men quiet. I woods. Perhaps Saul may but first he will let me go." unt the anxious days, the pent, Will and wos being fitted for the Isle of the Don there not and his nd what ng for. rms and acon and w in upon t ve ered waited. It a ht us the word t we were de order to allow the new levie d out of the great y from arthager One morning Ss we looked out of the w we could see her masts and pitous sides _ loomir solemnly up the bay, like some huge monster, and the same evening the sold! were ashore, a goodly band éf stout fellows enough, with the country bloom yet red on their cheeks. For they came mos‘ the northern provinces, which have from the first reared the b Spain, denly taken p. on the same day Spain landed her first boatlo: a detail of men came to the wed and put us both in irons again, or tethered us up like degs at a kennel’s mouth. For they fastened the same iron belts as at first about our waists, and to the ring they welded a swiveled chain be- hind by means of Pompey Smith and his traveling forge. But instead of sending us to the gang they bored a hole in the stout wood of the shed about the middle of the northern side, then thrust the chain through and made it fast to a great stake of wood driven into the ground Gn the out- side. It was (in other circumstances) most laughable predicament that we w. in. Forswe were thus able to do our work, and even to meet and converse privatel, having freedom of motion to the e . but a chains, though una fastenings by which we w The negro and _half-bree lads. who ormed = our lly at first, but kind to them they grew s ts to See us treated thu 1 them that if they 4 en we spoke they would over th » them as the at profession t this wa of sympathy, to assure wholly the commandante’ ing. but thi yuld not be for lc was by at could be de good will « bot and the g1 tor were don our be But what can such young he said, with a cunning le advised that your favor has been alto teo high with the Lady Juanita. dogs—sly dogs! But we held our peace, Pt we had done nothing to deser and that We hoped that they would soon be removed. s of course we could not hammocks in the inner room, kinder of our workfolk bre mats of palm fiber on whi ill, having pulled out w hey showed us, tll thi tachment in front. So we made to get some sleep, lying wholly on our backs, which on any hard bed is the only sition of comfort. In this dolorous manner we lived at the uving house of Porto Rico tll the sailing leon, that Is, the pet- jecp in our ome of the ht us woven h we slept not st rings round, hain and it 7 of the Port of Spain gz ter part of a week. The new soldiers, not ustomed to the routine of small » and jecred at us to pass the year or two in these mates they would be content enough to do nothing when they came off duty. At las! of the embarkation ar- cban was loaded deep s and men. Not much provis taken, for with a favorable wind t Was no great matter, Yet the was ever a thovght in my heart. I won- dered how, with this one ship, loaded down with soldiers as she was, Saul and his Spaniards could hope to force the perilous assage of the reefs to the anchorage of the Isle of the Winds. But I might have been ed that Saul Mark would certainly a plan clear in his head before setting out. Not till we were being taken on board were our chains taken off. As xoon as I got out of the weaving shed I looked every way for Anna, but saw no sign of her. 1 felt, somewhat sore-hearted thus to part, without any word of farewell from her. But there was no help for it. We were speedily transported on beard and found places as best we couid behind the bulwarks on the main deck. The anchor came up with a rattle and a cheer, the sails filled, and we were off. I sat watching the long battle- ments of the Castle of Porto Rico, but saw no sign of my sweetheart. Not a kerchief waved along the whole dull front of ma- sonry, which made my heart yet sicker and sadder than ever betore. But I had not time to think heavy thoughts long, for the drums beat to quar- ters, and Don Nicholas and Saul Mark, with the grand inquisitor standing near them, appointed all of us our stations in case of any attack, The guns were stripped, run out, and cleaned. Then came a bout of practice at the isolated sea rocks as we sailed past them. There was a cry for the powder monkeys. The hatches were lifted, and the first on deck with a bucket on her head was—little Anna Mark, looking more like a winsome boy than ever in her high-kilted Indian dress, the leathern fringes blowing back in the light winds, and a flush of de- fiance on her lips as she gravely turned to Salute her father and Don Nicholas, CHAPT! XLVIIL “For Her Sake.” As usual, Anna Mark (little no longer) had her own willful way. Indeed, by ap- pearing so late she had practically in- sured that. For the ship was too far on her course and the wind too favorable to return for such a cause. Furthermore, she alone could bring a smile, swift and grim indeed, but still a smile, to the close-set lips of Saul Mark. She alone touched something that was yet human about him. “We must clip your wings, my lady,” he said, nodding his head at her with ap- preciation. “We must not let you spoil this cruise as you spoilt some others. And if you are to be a powder monkey I shall sec that you do your work on board. Ann: pulled a ferelock and scraped a feot with all the gravity of the most an- lower of the sc: You’ d me do my hitching at her w n impish ¢ duty, sar.” s t belt with a ring that went well with her erect carriage and boyish costume. Captain Stansfield stood apart as usual, taking no part in the arrangements for the short voyage of the San Esteban, but mostly watching Anna as she moved here and there, with what dark thoughts GOING OVER THE ing, our frons were reaffixed and our wrists put into heavy fettemy Anna went to her father and b2sought ihim to trust us not to escape, but he only sheok his head. “I cannot afford that,” he said, speaking without heat; ‘these goung men are over- clever to take any chances with.” Then Will and I resaived that if the irons were kept on us we would not march at all through the woods They might carry us if they chose, that: was all. Presently Eborra came and crouched with us behind the bulwarks. We speke in low tones of th> hiding place of Morgan's treasure and its deadly guardians. Eborra tried hard to teach us the low, hissing whisper which (as we had seen) charmed the snakes. We made various attempts at it, but without enough success to give us any real con- fidence. I judged. that most Mkely the charm lay in the person using it, more than in the actual sound. Nevertheless, we aid our best, and, as Eborra said, succeeded not ill. Thus we four, Will, Eborra, Anna and J, were waiting our turn to disembark and listening to th> dipping of the oars, when suddenly a shadow fell between us and a bank of stars on the side of the ship farthest from the Isle of the Winds. I saw even in the dark of the night and the unilluminated ship's deck tnat it was Capt. Stans who stood there. He waited silently, leaning on the bulwarks and watching the phosphorescence of the sea deeps wave like a banner under our keel. But as soon as the deck was quiet about us, and all possible listeners removed, he spoke to us in low, firm tones, “Go forward—do not fear,” he said. “No harm shall come to any of you on this island. I promise { Then he was silent a moment, as if wait- I COULD SEE HIM STANDING BY THE FOREMAST WATCHING THE MEN SIDE INTO THE BOAT, and desper: s strongly manned, considering all the sold: on rd, ove: dd. It was but a short ex: pedition, and with the wine roring. u: it did have madc is time during the s did not ret the i Nn attempt to forec in the t uch fi So all day ton this tack the best po- nin upen the south : tlement ym the back. During this period Saul delivered his di- rections crew through their offi- proved [ so excclient a = at least, laid of a foreigner his dis- me most of all from the rolumn of smoke or other eres m, very light and graceful, high into the air from the place awed plainty, lying pale vatcrlogged Jn the a er of th ari Will and I talked thi It did not seem like the smoke of a gre cenflagration, or I should supp pirates were burning the village. arance over. It was lighter, ntier, ethereal. Sometimes it ca in curious spurts and puffs, as if the Isle of the Winds were smoking a py ‘ul pipe before retiring to rest. Anon it was only a soft, gradual ex- halation like steam wreathing up from a uldron of boiling wate By and by Eborr: ‘ame to us, but not ‘en hi. mother's magic enabled him to put a name on the cause of the mysterious appear- ance é be the High Woods are on fire,”” . “yet It is the wrong season of the r for that; or maybe pirates burn their i Tomorrow we see! vas all the assistance Eborra could It seems strange to me now that, know- ing what we did of the intent of Saul Mark, we should yet be able to regard our return to the Isle of the Winds without any great apprehension, Yet so it was. rhaps it was because we had been in so many terri- ble places, and in spite of all had won our way out. Or more likely because in a wild tropic place like the pirate isle we thought that there were many more chances of es- cape than in one settled and cultivated Ike Porto Rico. We knew that if once we had five minutes’ start, with Eborra to help us, we might remain hidden forever in the dense woods. And I for one had visions of an ideal existence in Eborra’s tiny bay with Anna and Will and the half-breed. T had already planned how we were to carry off my mother from the nunnery, and I think also the abbot to marry us, if neces- sary with a pistol held at his head So that when Will spoke of what we should do if we were compelled to descend into the loathsome crater In which Mor- Kan's treasure was forever broken on a wheel of pitch, I answered him indeed, but somehow not as though I helleved that it would ever come to the pinch with us. Toward evening, as the sun sank to the Sea, the creamy smoke cloud over the high- est part of the Isle of the Winds grew rosy, and we could see that It extended a very long way upward, finally becoming combed out toward the top and blowing seaward over the high woods in a long dragoon’s plume of trailing lilac mist. As the twilight deepened and the wind freshened the San Esteban drew inward toward the side of the island farthest from the yirates’ village. Here Saul Mark knew of an anchorage, e from every wind ex- cept a furlous tempest from the gulf, and of that at this time of year there was little probability. We looked into the loom of the lofty and savage cliffs as we drew nearer with mingled awe and admiration which were rendered greater by the strange pulsing glow, now red as blood, now yellow as wheat straw, that beat irregularly behind them. The appearance was as If some vast conflagration had been dying out be- yond the hills, and the beating light was accompanted at intervals by a low roaring sound like heavy surf on a windless night. Anon a recurring rumble would shake in our ears, causing a throbbing whirl of the brain like that which accompanies fever. At this the glow reddened momently and then died down, till again through the still- ness only that long-continuous surf would boom on unseen beaches. We soon found that Saul Mark did not mean to take any risks of our escaping. Even when the boats wer2 being got out and while the first soldiers were embark- who can guess revolving behind his sunken | ing to take advantage of a favorable mo- tin other's feeling. Philip, uid, “I speak to you. You are my Ii is trae T have been no worth . Yet now, before T go into the pr > of the judge, I would shake your hand. Mine is stained deeply enough, but, though guilty, the blood for which men hold me in loathing is not upon it my hand and tell me that fe “I forgive you freely for all the ill you > me “the evil you ve brought on my mother I cannot for- He sched a little “Philip, you cught to have been named James. You are your grandfathe hot mine. But yet—tell your mother that if she had loved ast my heart dwelt upon. her. » blackness of despair and death I ved hi At | t tell he that é the thing which f shall do I do for h 2 rT a I reached out my hand to Capt. Stans- field. 1 always thought of him as that— not as my father. His grasp came to me through the darkn He held my hand in his for a long moment and then moved silently a I could see him, by the light of the red reflected glow above the trees, stand by the foremast watching the men going ov the side into the boats. . . . . our way slowly through the Mark leading th chart and The lantern carried. besid> him was the only one allowed to the company. of us came stumbling after as could. Four men made shift to carry the grand inquisitor in a kind of lit- ter. Will and I we nch chained to a Veteran of the island wars It was, indeed, well that we had landed far down the desert side of the isle, for the large company, mest of them quite u tomed to the high woods, made a noise which might have waked the dead. Huge blackberry bri tore our thin clothes as we entered what appeared a very cave of darkne Men stumbled ahead of us, falling over prostrate trunks with the rattle of accouterments, and re- covering themselves with strange oaths, Tall trees moaned overhead. Lianas creak- ed like cord: between us and the roof of leaves. Invisible things threw themselves from strand to swinging strand. From be- ‘ath our feet came the rustle and hiss of turbed snakes, and as often as a bough scratched my-face I could have cried out, for I felt in every thorn prickle the dread: ful lashing stroke of the fer-de-lance, And ever in front of us pulsed, clearer and broader, that strange ruddy light, against which, the leaders of our advance stood out black. Sometimes during a halt I could see Saul Mark, his chart spread on a len tree. Eborra was at his elbow, the lantern in his hand and the fron hook point- ing out something on the map. Then in a moment we would be called for- ward again. Often I could not hear the whispered order, but each of our guards simultaneously gave a tug at the chain by which they held us indeash. And once, as Will did not move fast enough, the brute promptly set the point of a knife to his back and pricked him sharply with it. I could see Will turn white with anger. In # moment he would have been at the fel- low’s throat, but Icaught him by the arm. “Wait,” I said; ‘if we pay at all, let us pay our debts at one settlement.” The fellow with the knife flourished it over his head, and for pure deviltry would have pricked Will with it again, but at that moment the red glow shone out like sheet-lightning and against it I saw mo- mentarily something: dart, black and Straight as an arrow: The next moment guard uttered a terrible scream and ing his arms he pressed his palms to s face, with shriek after shriek of pain and terror. Saul Mark looked back quickly. “Gag that man!” he commanded. “He will bring every pirate in the isle upon us.” In a moment Eborra was beside us. He carried the lantern. I saw him stoop to the man on the ground and turn his head with his iron hook. Will and I were stand- ing quite close—Will, indeed, still chained to the soldier. By the light of Eborra’s lantern we could see two tiny punctures behind the ear where the great vein of the neck ts, “The man is dead,” sald Eborra, stand- ing up. ‘Fer-de-lance has stricken him. And so it proved, for while flourishing the knife over his head to threaten Will he must have touched the branch on which the snake lay. Then a great fear fell on‘All the company. It began to_be whispered What the man was doing when the serpent struck him. “Why do you not sing, Eborra?” I whis- Pered to the half-caste. “He may strike a he said, in a similar tone, “this is no living snake, Philip. Fer-de-lance does not strike at night. This is a jombi that enters the body of a snake to strike down his enemy. Do not be afraid—my mother is working great Obeah for you now. The Jombis are all about us, They will protect you!" And indeed it is true that we did feel ail about us the sense of invisible presences. Yet the sensation was no pleasurable ene, but rather as if some one uns¢ were about to put his hand on your shoulder in the dark. . At this moment Saul Mark ordered Will to be chained to another armed guard. They cast the dead man loose. (He died while we stood looking, strangely contorted and of a visage that blackened under our very eyes.) Forward!’ commanded Saul. ‘Lead on, Yellow Jack, if you know the way. There is not a moment to waste. It will soon be morning.’ Then Eborra summoned to the front all the blacks and Indian laborers and serfs to bring their mackctes and cut a way through the tangle. He himself held aloft the lantern and directed them. It was a strange sight, the red throbbing glow guing and coming like a furnace that dies out an is continually refreshed. The der ness of the of leaves overhes veloped us. The waste of hanging vegeta- ble cordage seemed trying to entangle us lianes and lalines like huge hawsers and cables, others again thin a: the light of the lantern flashed acre other plants were seen clinging to them the mistletve does to an apple tree in the orchard at New Milns—rosettes of gorgeous bioom, flaring red and white and orange even in that somber light, me tied like favors on the lianas, others drooping wn- expectedly from above like a spider letting himself down out of the midst of his web. In this place the machetes made fierce eck and slash and cut the burnt as they touched the bare skia, hairy caterpillars as big as bean pods ‘rained Gown upon our heads. But still Ebor hastened the work, and we made our way rd the source of the light. We rose gradually as we proceeded, pass ing the great swamp by a firm that which we had formerly cri the direction of the pirate village. steamy mist, impregnated with a s ous § A soft, Iphui nell, swelled and billowed about us. out ef the dense shadows and eping vapors of the high woods we emerged upon a wonderful scene. Before us rose a great black hill, In shape most like the Law of North Berwick seen from the shoulder of Mcorfoot; the hollow tower we had undergrowth, the matted c of rpet and wild bh , the king hill—all Vanished, p was a hot and deadly taint in the air which kept us gu: Gur dry as the dead bones of he thin sandy grit that and seemed to pervade ng between our h ert with upon telat black sand crumbling s\ steeply up to a hilltop which snorted vared above us. Subter rumb! nur hearts quive light w d seen spr and anon sank low. W r enough to see that this we but, as we in Scotland, the or reflection of fiery heart of the mountain thrown up- ward on the great hooded column of smoke, ‘-d like a palm tre> or was now coming fast, and the column of smoke or steam changed its as- pect every moment, now growing pink like af and anon flashing into white- rising out of the sea, the sun its upper part long before it reached Wwe stood among the black and cd growths on the edge of the forest. Eborra came close to us as we stood gaz- ing upward. It was the first tim: I had ever seen him really smile, for I do not count the grimacing of Yellow Jack. He pointed toward the mountain we could see breaking thr Harr: ugh the jungle before us. Mor; as com> himself for his * he said, 1 has brought his r along with him! T both y glad to see Ma Saul. And indeed there was something eminent- ly devilish in the ng, coughing, spit- ting, roaring monster before us. I looked to where Saul Mark stood shading es with his hands and watching the # fire mountain where he had expect ed the quiet lake of pitch. It must have been a terribl> appointment to him. Yet of that he showed nothing. “Forward!” he cried, poir the cone of ashes. pedition he starte the fiery moun ing upward to And first of all the up the windward side n Bring thes» lads along!’ he erled to our guards, thinking of us eyen in that mo- lusionment. And so, bent double by the slope of the untain and slipping among the loose of the lava stre » We mounted ould after him. Anna cam hus, often running a little b hand when otherwise the weight of our chains would have brought us to a standstill. It wa ir now. The fiery furnace in which ul Mark designed that we should walk. But there was in my heart none of the confidence of the three youths in the book of Daniel—and that in spitz of both Eborra and Capt. Stansfield. Suddenly, we mounted the cone, the Dlick ashes changed to crystals of sulphur ellow and brown, glistening like the ones which come fr untain m off the Cairngorm. Wide black rifts and s featnered in brightest red led down into the heart of the mount. These continually belehed up burn- ing steam and choking odors, which blew in our faces like the breath of demo: If this was Obeah, as Eborra said, I wished that Obeah had be>n somewhat sweeter of throat, for the hot reek blasting in my face turned me sick and faint and I swayed upon Will as I stood. At last we came out upon the unstable summit. Jt had a lip narrow, crumbling and dangerous. There was, however, a wind here which bl:w most of the smoke away from us, so that the place was more tolerable than upon the breathless slopes beneath. I looked over into the crater, setting my breast to the edge and holding Anna's hand as I did so. My guard would on no ac- count approach nearer, but stood at the Mmit of the chain, sinking his halbert deep in the ash for a holding post, and indeed I do not blame him, for the sights and sounds were heartshaking enough. ‘This is what I saw Immediately beneath me and so abruptly so that one could toss a stone to the bot- tom, was a lake (as it seemed), no longer of pitch sluggishly turning over in its sleep, but of fire bubbling merrily, like a great broth pot. From this jets of steam hissed furiously upward. Blocks of glow- ing rock spat out viciously, and when a loose stone or boulder fell from the preci- pices above into the caldron it was in- stantly dispersed, cften exploding with a loud report like a bombshell and casting the fragments high over our heads as we lay and watched. I have listened to pleas- anter music than the sound of these black jags of rock as they snored past us, boom- ing upward like drone beetles in the sum- mer gloaming. Saul Mark stood near us. I could see him biting his lip and clenching his hands as he looked down. But even then and in this place he seemed to know no fear. Don Nicholas and one or two of the bolder spirits among the Spaniards had mounted after us, and we stood all close together on the highest part of the crater lip. In every other direction the deadly vapors prevented closer access, and though the stones fell about us like summer rain, they wero mostly small and did us no great hurt. “What of Morgan's treasure now?” said my father, looking at Saul Mark with a kind of grim pleasure on his dark face in a lull of the nolse. The man’s features were instantly con- torted with an access of devilish fury. “Morgan's treasure is gone,” he cried, “but I tell you there is another over yonder —(he pointed to the direction of the pirate village)—a greater doubt'ess than Mor- gan's.” “We might have gone thither at once then,” answered Capt. Stansfield, “it was a waste of time to bring us here with so great ceremony, all to see this devil's cal- dron boil.” I could plainly discern that for some rea- son of his own my father was trying to irritate Saul Mark. And if such were his intent, it is certain that he succeeded. Saul turned upon him with a fierce action of the hand. “I will show you, Philip Stansfield, wheth- er I have brought you here only to see a pot boil. Cast-off these chains,” he cried to the soldiers. ‘Now couple the lads to- gether. They are traitors and villains. Their black slave bind also with them. He has deceived us. Fling them all three into the fire!” The soldiers, obeying a sign from the commandante, who stood lowering darkly behind Saul, began to do as they were bidden. And then, in spite of comfortings and promises, I thought that our hour w: truly come. Anna sprang toward her ther, running so carelessly along the peril- ous edge and among the rotton sulphur crusts till my very bowels were turned to Water to look at her. She ca Saul Mark by the hand and besought him to spare us. He threw the girl off with such Violence that sho had almost fallen and would, I think, have done so if the com- mandante had not reached a hand and caught her by the fringes of her hunting ar et alone.” he cri |. “You take too much upon you s you will with the young heretics, but do not touch the maid. Saul moved his hand with a commanding gesture, without answering the command- ante. The soldiers set us three close to- gether, coupled at waist and wrist, on a ledge overlooking the fiery furnace be neath. There S a moment's pause they brought Eborra from belo ow.’ cried Saul, as with a leer of triumph he turned to Capt. Stansfield, “1 have kept my word. My work fs nearly completed. On the day you wronged Saul Mark he promised that he would drag you down to the pit and blot out your name and seed from the earth. Beho'd the fire heat- ed seven times for your first born! See how it leaps up. It is a quick and_eas death. Hold back the girl there! ready! Fling them I could feel the soldiers at my arms and back breathing deeply and retracting their muscles a Ittle es men do who are about to make a mighty effort. I. too, firmed mine, that [ might net cry out with sheer terror. I saw Will Bowman holding back with his feet stiffened against the black caldron li Suddenly Phillp Stansfield, who had been standing quietly a little beyond Saul Mark, sprang at him and caught his enemy in h arms The man with the earrings struggied fiercely, but the grasp too _ strong. Capt. Stansfield pushed him steadily for- d till they stood among the last erum- bling cmbers that slid away from them into the burning pit. “ll Mary that It is for her sake!” cried my father, and leaped out into the abyss, ying Saul Mark with him. A gust of heat shot upward. A jet of dense blue ; shut them from sight ere they reached the bottom. Its poisonous fumes struck us full In the face and sent us reel- ing, as if stricken by a mighty invisible hand. Fire seemed to rise out of the era- ter, out of every rift and crevice and blow- hole The mountain heaved. At this the sald turned and fled, leaving the three of us on the crest. Anna came to us, bare- headed and pale of face, even in that fur- nace glare. Then we stool a moment with clasped hands and gazed after the two men whose deeds had changed and marred so many 1 But we saw them no more. Only the flames leaped up and danced mer- beneath in the pit of hell. we turned away and went down with no gladness in our hearts, for t what should befall us. At ra spoke for the first time. said, much I told the bi judg- ‘would b n who da ll, and that all should so to threaten a hair of your ) ART AND ARTISTS. ‘There was an interested gathering of art- ists and those on whom artists most de- pend for materia] aid and moral encourage- ment at the home of Mrs. J. B. Henderson one evening last week. The occasion was ina way preliminary to the exhibition which is to be held in the Corcoran Gallery, opening the Ist of May. The project, which should k an epoch in the history of art in Washington, is now assured, and is in the hands of the following committee of ladies: Mrs. J. B. Henderson, Mrs. John Hay, Mrs. McMillan, Mrs. Wetmore, Mrs. Sprague, Mrs. Hitt, Duchess d'Arcos, Mrs. Richard Townsend, Mrs. John W. Foster, Mrs. Miles, Countess d’Esterhazy, Mrs. A. L. Barber, Mrs. Richard Weightman, Mrs. Frank _B. Noyes, Mrs. Stilson Hutchins, Mrs. Stanley Mathews, Mrs. Walsh and Mrs. Westinghouse. It is not the desire of those having the matter in charge that the coming event should be termed a salon, although they hope tWat this beginning may lead to the establishment of such in the future, where may be gathered the works of the most prominent and promising painters of America for annual exhibition. * * Workmen ere now busy in the hemicycle of the Corcoran Gallery, putting {t in con- dition for the proper exhibition of the pic- tures of the Washington painters, for the first exhibition will be purely local. A new floor is being laid and the apparatus artific! ighting has arrived from New rk and being installed. The works of each will be hung together, so that an intelligent idea may be obtained of his individual qualities and inclinations. s been tried with great su the Champs de Mars and at the tri- 1 exhibits in Paris, where a se} i n to each master repres: hibition at the C open on May 1 with a promenade concert. view to th rapidly reception and a The pictures will be on > public for two * x OR Making caricatures and good-natured fun of the pictures shown in the exhibitions of the Society of Washington Artists, and put- ting the results of their fooling on public view is the aim and end of the Society of Washington Fakirs. Their first exhibition, held last ar, was highly successful, and the second annual, which closes today at the Art Students’ League, promises to be a worthy successor. ks. x To appreciate the work of the Fakirs one should first visit the exhibition at 1020 Connecticut avenue, for then the relevancy of the work at $08 17th street would be ap- parent, and a perusal of the catalogue thereof a wholesome treat. As the Fakir poet says In order to appreciate The exhibition rare . Find ten-twenty Conn. ave., And spend some minutes there, ‘Where the great S. W. Artists Display full many # gem; First see their fakes on nature, ‘Then sce our fakes on them," As a headpiece to the above effort, which is entitled “Directions for Using,” there ts on the first page of the Fakirs’ catalogue a sketch of a monkey pointing derisively at an artist, who stands in a disdainful at- titude with brush and patette in hand. It is the keynote of the discord which follows. Names of well-known local painters are played upon, their works all good-naturedly travestied, and the victims have no re- course, for the Fakirs are shielded by ano- nimity. At the close of the exhibition this evening the pictures will be so'd by auction and the occasion will afford an opportunity for those who attend to secure rare (for- tunately) works of art and to add to the al- ways recipient treasury of the Art Stu- dents’ League. 5 * * It 1s stated that the Salon of the Champ de Mars has reached an understanding with authorities of the Salon Champs Elysees, whereby the former will return to the fold. It is believed that all differences have been adjusted and henceforth they will be as one. The Salon of the Champ de Mars was orig- inally formed by secessionists from the parent institution, but things have not gone smoothly since the separation, and the re- sult is as stated. There will probably be no exhibition at the Champ de Mars this year. A step in advance ts the decision of the older salon to reduce materially the num- ber of works for which room will be found. * ** The death is announced of Paul Jean Clays, the eminent Belgian marine painter. He was born in Bruges In 1818, and was made an officer of the Legion of Honor in 1881. He also received many medals from the various art institutions of Europe, where his works largely are, although America has a number of his best examples. * * The German marine painter Hermann Eschke recently died in Berlin at the age of seventy-seven. * Miss Juliet Thompson, who has been seri- ourly ill for several weeks at the home of friends in Pennsylvania, is reported to be improving rapidly, and hopes soon to return to Washington. ‘ * * The attendance at the galleries of the Society of Washington Artists during the first week of the exhibition has not been encouraging. The artists have employed their best efforts to give the people of Washington an annual exhibition of pic- tures, but the public hes not appreciated the opportunity, and there is a community of lose. 7 FUTURE OF GORMAN: What Has It in Store for This Dis, tingu'shed Democrat? —— HE LED HIS PARTY IN THE SENATE Still Young Enough to Come Again to the Front. IS A MASTER OF QUIET WORK} In the last thirt years there has been no man on the democrs « the United; States Senate wh r Pues Gorman of Mary f parlia- mentary leadership. During the r yearg of his service nobody was so r as to venture to challenge his control of the party on the floor. ow th longer a member of the Senate daily. There have been few men tory of ny, to wh tion he ” a habit Gorma when 1 an ppointment as page. when a } the 4th of March, NW. when a ch ntrol of as senator to a continuou: in th ftol. Problems of government parlias mentary procedure have been familiar ta, him from the beginning, and he is as thors Arthur Pue Gorman. From a Photograph by Frances Benjamin Johostom oughly steeped in the atmosp! tional politics as the man of bu: atmosphere of the counting room. familiar with the multitude of deta play so important though inconspicuous part in legislative machinery, and when the Senate he could touch unerringly t hidden springs upon which congressio: action depended. Where Strength Lic: Gorman’s strength has lain not entirely tm this. There have been other men who by, long service in one or the other branches of Congress have become intimately acquainte, ed with the niceties of legislative p: and have become adepts in the ‘ framing and passing bills without attaining Gorman has powt of nae) as well, and it is this; which has given him his’ mastery. He ts one of those who can understand motives’ and sense popular feeling. He understands’ the science of organization and re indispeysable it Is t the rare faculty among those whom wh he marks the way few fo Gon thoroughly in “the mag, chine. of the political leadert, who hav 1 distinguished with the title? of “by and in undoubtedly true that eter has been mor conspicu in the shade of who have . Whethe ve been f 1 methe governmental policies as we few questions which came befe during his term in the Senate ¢ of which he did not dev minds of th’ 1 other those h ser ning which he did not ha. -des ideas. One who is so far removed the former Maryland senator in pop. al belief and method as Senator Hoa? id that if a democrat were to b@} ted President upon? whom his pet mal cho’ il—this on the theory that Gorman White House would be conservatiy; What Senator Hoar $ “There has been no man in the Senate in my day,” says Mr. Hoar, “who was mof®, thoroughly conversant with the problems government, and to whom the reins of ministration could be intrusted with great’ er confidence. Gorman is not an orator. tice and by necessity he has become 'B fairly effective speaker on occasions when it became essential that he shcuid speak, as well as act, but he is altogether lacking} in the qualities ch make an cons spicuous on the platform. § a gO debater, because he always understands’ his subject thoroughly and can appre; the points which will tell on the in for the proposition in behalf of which he contends. He has few popular qualities: There is nothing magnetic or dramatio about him, but this does not mean that hé 4 By long prace, lacks the faculty of making friends. The associations he formed in the Senate were close, not only with men of his own political following, but also with those of an opposing faith. There was no demo- cratic senator whose word coull securd more on the republican side, or who, fog personal reasons, could secure more ‘cons cessions in matters in which he was indfe vidually interested. The Unseen Hand. Gorman works quietly. More often than not his hand remains unseen until the sults he wishes to accomplish become ob vious, and then it is revealed for the first time that he has been fashioning and mold ing the event. There are those who him jesuitical, and there is something in his method which makes the adjective not altogether inapt. But it cannot truthfully be applied to him in an offensive sense, Nobody ever yet charged him with falser hood, and if those who oppose him are deceived for a time as to his intentions 1€ is not his fault. If they lack keenness of perception, it is not his business to sharpen their wits, and they certainly cannot exe pect him to take them into his confidence, It is simply not’ his habit to carry hia heart on his sleeve. Gorman looks like a priest or a diploe mat, with his smoothly shaven face, hip finely chiseled features, his thin lips close- ly pressed together and a gray ere that is keen and searching in {ts gaze. One of his greatest charms Is a smile that is wine ning and confidential, even when some po« litical scheme is lurking beneath No« body can retain personal enmity for Gor- man after coming in close contact with Aim. Gorman is almost as much a resident of Washington as he is of Maryland. an@ his Washington house is open almost the year-round, even now, when he is no longer a member of the Senate. Still Politically Active. He has lost none of his political activity, although for the first time since the war he no longer holds any office. He still. keeps his finger on the party machinery. and looks ahead to the day when he an@ those who think with him will be in come plete control. He is young yet, as poll- ticlans go, having only sixty years to his credit, and many things may happen before his final retirement from the political field, o+—____ There are 417 different languages spokeg in America.