The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 25, 1895, Page 5

SDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1895. at seeing him injured. Ifeared to convey knowledge to any one, and would doul from it to-day were it not for the of the incidents being so far back in my his l q | | Warned by the Wire. I have in m of my lif bas been a gr stmply b ev Back in the was new on t operator for a smal of the 1 t and myself oc- cupied t T s in a small, red boxcar tha i been 1 up with a few con venierices 1 that while on the road we { be able toenjoy a few of the comforts of ¢ atior ork, and as & rule our | indisturbed until daybreak. | ave in mind, which was the b ning of this mystery, was cool, worn out with the labor of the day I wen ragood rest. Nosoomer d the pillow then I was lostin Just how long I slept I o not know, unning wild e to waki my prac ¥ came to me > possible itk was yet asleep? Igot up and walked over to the little shelt upon whic i the s 3N I was not o cleer to me and out the following | | sente: “Spik ver Catton will be killed in the down to thin me to attribu mental dis- 1 went to sleep again r was almost forgot- went out to work as I saw Catton passm r on s of the night before | s he passed from view I for- | got all nd turned to 1 ¥. | I had been working a few hours, and in or- | der to stretch my a little got up and stepped | off the car for the purpose of taking a walk up | 10 the cut to see how things were getting on. | As I turned the curve which brought the sec- tion men into view a dull, rumbling sound | struck my earsand looking upIsaw to my hor- | Tor sbout twenty tons of rock fall away from the main bank and come crashing down over Catton, the spike-driver. | In an instant I knew it was all up with him, | 3 &) ed over a g the mat and when we recovered his remains they were | crushed outof all semblance to & human be- | ing. e my feelings when I recalled that f the previous night, and the indif- | e with which I had received it. WasI | T ible for Catton’s death? The thought | disturbed me greatly, but aiter looking at matter from every conceivable point of view, I came to the conclusion that I was not. Catton wesa marked men and he met his fate. I coniess, however, that I was not as regul 15 my slumbers after that, and Iwould aw with a start at the slightest st ick from my instrument. The ticipation was awful. Catton was insured, and the widow received o 3000. One day I saw her,and asshe seemed more contented with the money than with her lamented husband, I graduaily got over brooding about the affair. It took me six | weeks though, and Iam sure it told upon me. After a time ! letit pass out of my mind alto- gether, as my head wes filled with the business of getting the road to the next tov Fate, however, did not intend that I should be free from misery, and the next visitation came to me under quite different’ circum- | stances. It was late in the afternoon and I was getting away by daily report. When I sent thirty and closed the key my receiver straightway ticked back: «Tie-walker Hopkins will fall in a culvert at and break his legs.”” This time I acted instantly, and, manning a handear with eight men, I urged them to backtrack with all possible speed. It was 5:20 r n gestion of a strain of an- 5 | nected with no live wires. | tired about 8 o'clock being | tory. We gave Hopkins every comfort, and atter lie had been fixed up to be sent back to the | other end of the line I went straight to my car and tore the receiver from its fastenings, vowing that I would no longer have such a aamuable prophet at my eibow. I fixed an- other instrument where the first had been, and from that time on I received no more messages while working on the new line ‘hen we got it through to the adjoining vn 1 packed my valise and started for san and. moved hy some invisible 1 placed the old receiver in the depths g, as T considered it a curiosity. Tam thankiul that T took it with neisco, powe as T consider it my savior. Its third mes sage and the one that made me swear never to let it get out of my possession eame to me ton, although the instrument was con- its eu orner of my grip and was just biddin Clerk gooé-by. As I walked out of the door toward the train T heard something tick 1 listened perfectly dum- foun peated several tim “Do not go to-day \ias this another warning that disaster awaited me, and perhaps others? Ce 1ld yet have time to stop the train ade haste. No, on second thought I would not do that. People we k. 1 n to the hotel results. lowing m 1ts I slowly walked back iformed clerk that I had concluded tle longer. htthe dai ana v pavers, and &s I rain was ditched and the man the berth directly over the one I 1 had his back broken and is a crip- ple for life. When me comes that instrument will tell me the day and the hour. Pz APPSR Pl Luke Reynolds’ Ghost. A ghost story! What do T know of ghosts? Perhaps nothing personally; but what about the ghost story told me by M. G. Gillette superintendent of the Savage fifteen or twenty ago? yea: Early in the fifties he was engaged in placer wi miles from L ner, whose name, I believe, ws They occupied a cabin togethe bor nearer than two or three hundred yards. Their claims had yielded well, and for more than a year they had divided ounces of gold daily. Suddenl. d to Ohio by the death of his father, prom- ing to return within three months, and leay- ing Gillette alone in the cabin. Something more than & month passed, when, returning from his work a little after sundown cne evening, Gillette was amazed at finding his partner standing in the open doorway of the cabin. “Why, Luke, is this you?” he exclaimed, ad- vancing and holding out Lis hand. Instead of responding the figure—plainly that of Re nolds and clad in his old mining costume— moved silently backward into the cabin and remained motionless behind a table standing near the middle of the room. There was still enough of daylight left to en- able Gillette to distinguish objects quite ciearly within and he entered the doorway, stepped slowly to the table and seated himself on a beneh, without for a moment taking his eyes from the sad but familiar face intently regard. ing him from the other side. He reatly frightened, nordid he lose his presence mining a few 0 h a part- Reynolds. Lu with no neigh- | of mind: but a feeling of awe creptover him as Lie continued 1o gaze upon a face too silent and motionless to be of flesh and blood, and into eves 10 dull and vacant to be other fhan the s otdeath. ““Are you Luke Reynolds? Speak!” For a moment the form swayed from side to side as if in distress; then from between im- movable lips, as if thrown upward from the | lungs, came thes ural utterances: “I am Luke Reynolds, whose body, torn from life in 8 shattered railway car, was yesterday buried at Defiance, Ohio.” I “I cannot doubt it,” said Gillette, awe and fear giving way to curiosity; ‘“but give me your hand that I may be convinced.” A shadowy hand was extended over the table. Gillette reached for it end grasped the air. “I am satisfied, Luke. here?” 1t was two or three minutes before an answer came, and then the words were indistinet and widely separated. Meanwhile the twilight was fading and the figure had moved further back from the table. “I cannot understand you. speak more plainly?” And ( words in hollow and unnat- Now, why are you Can you not ette moved as when we got under way and there were two |.if to decrease the distance between them; but miles to cover. Never was a handeer s along the rails like that one. The minute med to glide away with wonderful rapidity s I feared, we were too late. Asthe car ng into the canyon I saw Hopkins throw up both hands and stumble into a culvert. ©ur speed was so rapid that it was imvossible t0 stop the car as we passed over him, as he lay on the rocks benesth groaning with pain. It | took us but & moment to get to his assistance, but both legs --ere broken and he was helpless. It was no use to grieve over this accident. I the disaster, but without success. | Igave asa reason for my hasty manning of | the bandear that I wanted to see the unfort- unate man on some track business, and that I forgot to give him the order inmy exoitement | he was stopped by the wave of a mi and the voice was heard again. “Yes; but come nonearer. Your touch was disconcerting. Asthelight fades I am stronger. Listen!” And Gillette did listen—feariessly listened, with every sense alert; listened as Hamlet listened to the helmeted shade of his fagher. He was told of a considerable amount of gold secreted near the cabin, of an 1uterest in a hotel at Forbestown, of a ilouse and lot in Sac- ramento and other property of less value, all of ¥ hand, of a widowed mother, whose address was given. During the strange recital questions were freely asked and answered by each, and the lengih of the interview ana its results woutd seem to preclude the possibility of fraud or IS TR - R BT On the following morn- Urable longer to bear the strain | | in silence, he raised to his feet and sai { had packed it in | from one to three | Reynolds was usion. Gillette promised to comply with every request. | “Yes, T know von will,” were the final words of his ghostly friend. *“I shall be with you, and some time in the fature will find | the sur occasion to show you that I am grateful. Farewell.” A cool breath touched the cheek of Gillette, | and when he would have spoken again the apparition had vanished. And now, to conclude this part of the story, it must be said that Reynolds was killed at the time and in the manner mentioned; that the property was found as described by the misty messenger, and in due time benefit of the mother of miner. the unfortunate passed. Gillette became the super ent of a noted Comstock mine—the There ut little ore in sight at e, and he inangurated a vigorous search for more. He started prospecting driits in many directions, and was constanily in and about them, inspecting, assaying end stimulating haste. He penetrated ana abandoned dan 1zes, and groped his way alone through exhausted , where the air was stifling and the rotting timbers were giving W to the irresistible pressure swelling walls. Like all miners, he had the S W theories of his own, some of them a little too | radical to be impartad to others, and in their nce he invited the counsel ot no one, but quictly pursued his inves as as op- portunity permitied, carefully noting the dij of the footwall in one level, the character of the clay deposit in another, the texture of the porphyry in & tiird and so following. One’ day, in mak his way with a candle and poil-pick into an drift from one of the levels that bad yielded nothing, lie encount a zig broken timbers fiity feet frc the entrance. Anxious to see what was be- yond, he loosened and partially remove heavy upright which seemed to be re fall, and stepped past the obstruction. lie was about to continue on to the face of the drift when the candle in his hand was suddenly ex: tinguished. He was puzzled at the cirea nce, as he could feel no circulation of air was in the act of relightin n it was violent ocke: He that held it and he was gently butf back through (he sets of broken ti had passed. The next moment the entire drift bebind him caved in with acrash. Bewildered roped his way to the station, and, turning, be beheld Luke Reynolds standing in the mouth of the drift. But he was notclad in the garb of a miner. A gauzy robe of white fell from his shoulders and the c moon shone in his face. the signal for the cage, Gillette was pale when he reached the sur face and said nothing of what had happened tothe drift. For the rest of the day there was @ sensation of numbness in the hand from which the shed candlé had been struck, and he rubbed it freauently; but it was not until the next morning that a finger- mark on the back of it had completely faded from view. Seivonernar w e AR The Shrinking Rope. Fitteen yvears ago to-day 1 spent Christmas in Panamint, & little mining settlement situ- ated on the edge of Death Valley, in the lower part of California. On the west of the village stretched the Panamint range of hills, with its trensures of gold and silver scattered along the mountein tops. Being of a turn of mind thet found recrea- 1 radiance of the e disappeared with ex | tion and amusement in the study of mineral- | sheer off into a cliif was not | | | | i | | i | | { | ogy, I strolled over the foothills Christmas morning, and finding a narrow but well-worn path leading up the mountain side, followed it and found myself about ncon on tha spur of a hill that jutted out into the canyon and fell that seemed to lose itsell in the trees below. To my right on a little eminence was located & miner’s cabin, behind which was & windlass. Down the side of the hill lay the dump. Movea by curiosity to know of its history, I climbed up the rocky aporoach and stood in the doorway of the cabin, “‘Well, what's wanted?” came from within, and a middle-aged man thrust his head out from behind & pile of oresacks. Iwas struck by his remarkabiy white hair, but his face possessed all the vigor and general appearance of youth. The eyes, full. piercing and active, were nervous in their movements. ing at me for a moment he extended his hand, whic I took. We exchanged a few words of greeting, but it was impossible for me to re- frain from staring at his white hair, whic} fell over his broad shoulders. I must have forgot his personal presence altogether, for he sud- denly startled me by shaking my hand again, which he had held in his own from the time I extended it. I recovered myself, but was greatly confused. He noted my consternation and relieved me by ng: My name is Douglass, better known as Snow- top Harry. My hair, it used to be as black as yours. Itchanged in a few hours. Have you time to funch with me? Sit down and I will tell you the story.” 1 took the seat offered me, while he went to the cuphoard and brought fortha eold sagehen | and some canned jelly, which palatable. x vears ago,” he began, “I discovered this mine and located it, with three of my friends. From the vers surface it panned out well, and we followed the ledge down over 100 feet, taking the ore out in buckets. One day we lost the ledge proper and, after figuring on the formation, concluded that it must have been broken and that by digging we would be able to connect with the other end. As we antici- pated, we opened up the lost ledge, and, in tasted very | | order to get out as much as possible before had taken every possible precaution to avert | which he was requested to secure for the benefit | winter set in, we worked night and day. On the 23d of September—I will ever remem- ber the day—we concluded to put sixteen hours in getting out the richest rock we had vet struck. Two of us were to godown the shaft, while the other remaincd on top to Loist inured to the | After look- | ore. Ed Thomas went down in the b first'with the picks and shovels, and I followed afterward with enough food to last us for two | | squars meals, so as not to lose time coming to As I stepped in the bucket Bill | Bradley, who was at the windlass, looked at | me ina sort of sickly way. I asked him if he | felt bad. He assured me he would be ail right in & little while, but that he was weak at the | stomach. I told him not to work unless he | conld handle the windlass in good shape. ‘Ob. never mind me, Harry; I'll be all right 1na few moments. Pile in there and let me drop | you down.” “\With some little fear I got in mora to satisfy [ him than myseli. Slowly the bucket began to sink, but when I got about half way down the rope stopped and my descent continued in | jerks. Before I knew it the jerks became more frequent, and I knew the windlass-hanale was | getting away from B 1 looked up through the mouth cf the shaft and to my hor- ror saw the spindle §top short a second and | then whirl off the coil of rope like lightning. | Down, down, down 1 went, and the timbers | swept up past me with a rush. I tried to warn Thomas of my coming, but my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as though it had been riveted there. Although my flight down the shaft could not have lasted more thant seconds, it seemed an uge. My candle went out and the blackness of eternsl nighten- veloped me. 1 felt the bottom of the bucket cresh into somcthing that sounded like the cracking of a human skull, and as a groan struck upon my cars the blackness became heavier and I felt my head being torn from my body. Then I forgot everything. “Something was dripping on my face. I tried tolift my hands but could move neither of m. Where was 17 Iseem®d to be lying on something soft and es the cloud of mist left my eves I could see far above me th ht of day. Drip, drip, drip. It continued to fall. In'a short time I was able to discern an object hanging over the edge of the shaft. T tried and finally succeeded in collecting my thoughts and then the terri and the groan all ¢ again toward to made out the afterward Loma all, the crash of bones I looked ne and what of of the unfc drip. It was com y this time 1 Drip, nger intervals, as ssion of my Ough— it was Thomas A long terval again. Drip. Presently it ceased were becoming clearer to me. 1 gained a little strength, and finally re oneof my hands from a weight that rested upon it. I felt nd and my contact with something clammy was a in a few seconds to define a face. W throught me. It was Brad I reluctantly felt for his shudder ran nd he was dead. head. The skull was crushed in and fearfuliy mangied. 1 foolishiy thought he could be roused, but he was gone. De. Dead. “Queking with fear andubali cruzed with the prospect of dying of starvation I began to look | around me for some means of escape. Every- thing I touched seemed to be a dead man’s | body. 1succeedea in getting my other hand loose and felt around in the darkness. I raised my arms above me and my fingers tonched a hairy substance. I felt sgain. It was the broken end of the rope that hung from the windlass. At last T had found some means £ ve if I could extricate myself from the wreckage. My only salvation was calmness and I managed to get into my shirt packet aud secure *he matches I always carried under- | ground. 1struck a light and found the candle | | half imbedded in the soft mud. Asthe tiny | flame crept up the wick I turned fearfully to | look at Bradley. My God! His head was | mashed bheyond reeognition.. The Dbl was, oozing out over his face and I never put my cres upon him again. Several attempts to | ench the shredded end of the *windlass rop iled and, finding 1 was 100 weak to exert myself violently, I thonght it well to rev: myself with food, and got into the lunch basket, with very gratify results. After eating # much ssmy condition wonld permit Ilay quietly to rest before making an- other attempt. The afternoon woré away and a dark wing of the night trance of the shaft and left me with but the | | glimmer of my ball-wasted candie o keep me and my dead companion company. | “Soon the stars appeared, but they seemed so far away I tired of lookinz at the twinkling pt across the en- Jights and turned again to the rope, my only hope, my only means of reaching the upper | | leveis—the sweet, longed-for suriace of the | earth. Could it be possible I was mistaken in what I saw. No. | “It was dra=n up nearly three inches. | “Itried to touch it, but failed. What ghost | of the mine was playing with me? After a | time I tried again. It was some five inches | above my fingers. T struggled frantically to grasp it, but fell back exhausted. Inside of an hour the precious thing was a foot further. Was the devil haunting me? The chilled per- | spiration began to coze from every pore. I | gnashed my teeth and foamed at the mouth. | My only chance for life was leaving me like | the last heart pulsations of a dying man There was no hope. I was to die of star- | vation. Cursing and struggling myself once more lost my head | | and swooned again. But only for a mo- | | ment. When I came to it seemed thatthe rope | had disappeared altogether; the stars went | out, my hieart almost butst from my breastand | I became utterly unconscious. “When my senses returned it was about noon the next day, and to my nmazement and de-l light I found that the precious rope was drop- ping back within my grasp. I iwatched it like a madman waiting for a vietim to come within | his clutches, and by four in the afternoon it | was in reach. Iutiered a fervent prayer, and after knotting the end as best I could I selzed it with all my strength and by a superhuman effort drew my boay up until I stood upon my feet. Iwas weak and trembling, but found no bones broken. With the strength of despera- tion I tried to elimb. It was useless. My body was unable to stand the strain, and to free | | la Al 3 realizing the necessity of some strength- ening force I turned to and ate heartily, I felt my wasted energies returning, but did not for a moment release my hold on the rope for fear that it wonld escape me again. When 1 thought my strength would permit it I began the ascent to the surface. It wasa difie job, but by placing my feet aganst the tim- bers and knotting the rope at intervals I 1ly succeeded in getting my head above the ground. Once I felt myse'f growing dizz: but mustering all my strength I made a fin effort and fell exhausted on the ground. Be- side me lay Thomas, with his forehead stove in. I dragged myself to this cabin we are now oc- cupying and dropped on the floor, where I went tosleep. The nextday I got around, cleaned myself and looked in the glass. I was spell- bound, for my hair had turned white while I in the bottom of the shaft and watched the the sermon at a certain church soun=ed like an extract from a dime novel and that the rector had a whisky-cough. I was the governing spirit of the political writer who referred to your pet candi- date as “the mangy-whiskered demagogue from the Fourth Precinc” and incidentally called him the “director-general of the heelers.” Do you recall the time your society man said that tne guests at the —— wedding were ready to ship 10 Armours packinghouse as' a consign- ment of California hogs and that the bride's father ought to be cracking rocks at San Quentin instead of soft-shelled almonds at a society wedding? 1am the man who handled the Fourth of July proceedings and made the chief orator say fn your paper thatour forefathers all had paresis and that Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, Abraham Lincoln and Henry Clay were cigarette smokers and steam-beer drinkers of the worst order and that George Washington bonght the Presidency with British gold. Didn't that knock a good big hole in your circulation? Who | rope shrink away from me—simply because it put it into the head of the editorial writer to sug- gest that America annex herself to England and build Victoria a summer home in the Golden Gate Park? I did. Who was behind the wild, un- had been wet with the evening's dew that had condensed on the smooth surface of the wind- lass spindle end run down the rope. | The murder oci | very late hour | shipped on board & hayscow for Stockton in | were found floating around the spiles by a | most glaring mistakes in everything he han- | into the oflice one afternoon—the date of the | | yellow envelope addressed to me personaily. I “Do you see that little mound over by the pine tree? My companions are buried there.” An Editorial Wraith. Many years ago I worked on a paper in this City as a copy-reader, and eventually became very well acquainted with the styles of every man on the staff. I could tell ata glence at the paper at eny time that I happened to be off the desk for a dey or two what men were doing the important stories and pick out every writer’s individual work. In time 1 became 50 expert at noting a reporter’s peculiarities that I tired of the old styles and began to look for | something new. | It eame in the shape of & young fellow who | drifted into the office late one night with | ascoop. The city editor turned him over to | me, and T confess | read the yarn with the | greatest interest. It was the story of a fruit- | vender who had fallen heir to several thous- | and dollzreand who celebrated by partaking of foot-wine in such quantities that he became frenzied and killed his wife and two children. red in the Latin quarter at a 1was full of the most dra- | matic and tragic situations. The introduction was a gem of Engi all through the tale was woven an individu- ality that was worthy of a better market than that afforded by newspapers. The gradual ac- cumulation of the fruitman’s temper, the ap- | peals on the part of the wife and mother for him to desist in time, the frenzy of the drunken man when he found himseif in the position of one who needed advice, the scene of nis striking down the poor woman and the | destruction of the two children in a most brutal and shocking manner, stood out in the e chapters of description and pictures or. of ho i wes so struck by the marveious power of the writer that [ infofmed the city editor of the importance of the story and suggested that e double-lead the whole thing and run it in notwithstanding the Iateness of the hour. | “How long is it?” h ed. Nearly four thousand words, I gues Well, cut it to one thousand, leave out the rhetoric and stick to bare facts. Too late fora spread.” “But the story is & magnificent piece of Nothing has ever been written like it in a daily paper in this city. Itis—" | “This is no magazine. Cut it down 1did as instructed, and, with a six head, sent it into the composing-room. On the foliowing day the writer appeared | again and sat down on the edge of my desk. “I see you cut my story. “I did so at the suggestion of the city editor.” “I see, Hum. Thought that was a pretty well told tale. and it was a scoop. Really, that was written with great care, and 1 am sorry he overlooked the importance of the sto and hed it cut to a thousand words. 1gu what do you pay for that kind of news? 1 referred him to the city editor, from whose room he finally emerged with an order on the | business office jor 3 80—just what it meas- ured at so much per inch. e returned to my room and, throwing the slip of paper on my desk, aid, quictly: I asked him for steady employment. He re- fused. 1 have worked on all the big newsp: pers in the United States, but I drink too | moeh, perbaps. Yes,a great deal 100 much. I.am sober though to-day, and I gave him n vord that i would never touch hiquor again if he would give me employment. He an- swered that he wasnotrunning a reform school | en-down reporters.”” He drew his face | to mine, and in a voice searcely above a per resumed: “Have the water-front man work. However, he knew what he wanted. By the way, wh | keep his eves open, and e will get a good sui- | | cide story before midnight.” In another instant the author of the best iurder story I ever read was gone. | 1 immediately telephoned the harbor police | to wateh the piers for an attempted suicide, | informing them of the reporter’s threat to | take his life. From all accounts they put extra | men on gusrd, but about 11 o’clock that night | the water-front man came into the office with | a suicide story of a young man who had the afternoon, and who must have dropped | over the side abont 9 o’clock. His remaius | wharf pilot, and the body was unidentitied. From the description I knew who it was, but I personally saw to it that he had something better than a pauper’s funeral. About six months after the young man’s death the paper on which I was employed suddenly found itself tied up in the finest as- sortment of libel suits I ever heard of, Every- thing went wrong, we lost subscribers, the business propped off, the city editor made the dled, and our local, editorial end art staft plunged the paper into ill-repute by frightful and unprecedented blunders in the preparation | of the paper. Every man cmployed on the sheet seemed bewitched and entirely incom- petent to attend to his dutics. There was sim- | ply the devil to pay all over the place. I came | loathsome morning contemporary having scooped us on two big stories—and found a opened it mechanically, and herewith present what I can remember: You read my first story written for nd now vou can read what I have done for you since. Six months ago your city editordrove me off the face of the earth,but I have haunted this place ever since. Recall some of the features I have Introduced into Pacific Coast journalism through the columns of your “mich read and respected paper. | to the side of the mirror. {arm and hoarsely whispered: | light. "Twas I who made the religious reporter say that practical scheme launched by your paper to erect a monument to Beuedict Arnold i front of the City Hall and turn the State Capitol into a home for feeble-lunged prize fighters? I did. Have you ever thought of the time I haunted your fraternal editorand got him to say that it was high time the Federated Trades were abolished and that the officers be arrested for interfering with the cor- porations, and also that the Printers’ Union was & menace to civillzation, because there were some intelligent men at the head of it trying to capture the strings of government and ihrow down the rich? I am delighted to say that I have conducted your paper for the last few months and that I have driven the entire staff to the verge of the insane asylom. Are you aware that you are at the present time out of employment and that your city editor has just fallen off a horsecar with a shock of brain paralysis? Well, he has, and if yon will go over to the mafl-rack you will find a letter notifying you that there is no more work on hand and that the ensire plant of the paper will be sold at auction on the first o next month. Look behind you and see that policeman who has a warrant for the edi- tor of the Children’s page. He is wanted in Michi- gan for kicking his half-sister in the face when he was visiting there last month. The girl has since died and he will probably be hanged for murder. Tell vour city editor for me, provided he ever recovers consciousness, that 1 am satisfied with my spiri- tual management during the past few months. Yours fraternally, - THE MORGUE REPORTER. I turned and saw the officer he referred to, but dismissea him with the information that I could not tell him where the Children’s editor was and that I did not care. Suddenly the let- ter I held in my hands disappeared into space and I have never seen trace of it since. Converting a Skeptic. Something regarding ghosts? To tell you the truth I never took much stock | in supernatural things, but now that yon sug- gest it tome I remember an incident wherein Imade a friend of mine believe that all the spirits and ghosts of the other land had been turned loose on him in one night. Naturally he was a most pronounced skeptic and for this reason alone I argued against his- beliefs. We had many long conversations re- garding spiritnalism and I always argued that there was something in it, while he scoffed the idea and jeered my beliefs. His sneers and jibes so annoyed me that I finally con- cluded to put up a job on him, which if suc- cessful would not only tuen his ideas to my way of thinking, but simply scare him out of his head. Ilived in Virginia City at that time and he lived in Gold Hill. Our association in news- paper work brought us together several times a month, so I concluded to fix things up a bit and invite him to spend a night with me. First of all I tied & pair of dumbbells under my bed on an inclined plane, so arranged that I could release them at any time. Next I fast- ened a piece of black thread to the gasjet and ran it around to my side of the bed. After that I stretched & long but light rubber hose across the other end of the room and ran it up Then I wrote on the glass in phospliorus the name Alice so that & breath through the tube would blow across it. After these preliminaries had been gone throngh with and all the strings and tubes were properly collected at the head of the bed I placed one of these circus squawkers under my pillow, end turning off the gas at the meter in the hall sauntered down to the train to meet him, as I had agreed. From the train we went to the residence of some friends, and remained there until 11 o'clock, partaking of copious refreshments, but constantly preserving our Nevada dignity, which is above price 1 the Sagebrush State. After we left and were on our way home, turned the conversation upon spiritualism and told the most terrible tales I conld conjure up, all of which caused him to laugh uproariously Finally, we arrived at my room, and the in- stant I turned the key in the latch I struck a parlor match and ignited a small tallow candle which T had placed on a bracket for the oeca- sion, explaining to him in the meantime that the gas pipes were being repaired and would not be fixed until the following night. Tne candle flame threw a dim light over the room, but not sufliciently bright to enable him to dis- cern my paraphernalia. & Wel, we turned in, and just as I was about to blow the candle out I explained thata man had been murdered there by his sisteT a few months before and that the place was a little peculiarat times. “That’ll be all right, Sam. 1 guess I can stand anything that occurs here. Blow out that candle. Blast your dead men.” 1did as he instructed me and for a few mo- ments we lay on our backs chatting and telling stories. All of a sudden he grabbed me by the “Sam, look at that gasjet. See, see,see it swinging. Look, look, Sam. What in ’s the matter with it? Look, look.” 7 1 told him it was nothing unusual and that itdld thatevery night. “‘Turn overand go to sleep. Don’t let that bother you,” I answered him. Just then the phosphorus began to glow and the word Alice stood out like a far-off Again I felt his grip on my arm. “Sam, Sam. There it is. Her name, Sam. My sweetheart. Great heavens, Sam, what Qoes it mean?” His voice sank (o a breath, and just then I blew a soft puif into the rubber tube and the phosphorus was wafted away for asecond. I felt the skeptic shucder, and he grabbed me again like & manigc. “See, see, it's gone. There it is again. My God, what shall I do, Sam? Alice. Her name, Sam. Alice. Alice.” I advised him to get up and talk to the name, telling him that it would disappear once for yes and twice for no. Every onmce in & while he would break out again, and it took me some moments to get him in conversation with the phosphorus., Finally he crawled out of bed, but the gasjet cut up & few capers at that juncture and he slid back like a frightened child. The poor fellow was in & cold sweat. After several attempts to face the music he managed to gasp out: “Alice, do you love me?”” Iblew once on the tube for yes, and as the name disappeared and reappeared’ again, he picked up courage and ventured to ask if she would always love him. Again I blew orce on the tube and his joy was apparent. Urged on by his first suecess he stood up boldly and said, with all the dignity he could command: ““Alice, will you be my wif That was my chance, and [ blew twice. He threw up his hands and stepped back toward the bed.exclaiming: *“Sam.sheis ot for ™ Tnis 1s terrfble. Look, Sam,look. See the gas- jet and her name. It comes and goes. It's gone. Thereit is again. Horrors, Sam! My God, what have I done to deserve this terri- ble—1" While he was in the midst of this distress [ turned the dumbbells loose, and with a rumble and a roar they smashed him in the calves of his legs and sent him sprawling all over the floor. He bounded up again, and, with his eves starting out, made for the door, which he burst open just as 1 blew the squawker. ' In three good long steps he had traversed the hall and was downstairs on the front porch in his nightgown howling like a crazy man. Arthur McEwen happened along at this junc- ture, and the skeptic fell upon his neck de- lirious with joy at finding & human being whom he knew. “Arthur,” he gasped, “Sam is up therein a haunted room, and he lives there and enjo; it and pays hisrent, and the imps of hell have full charge.” McEwen gently put the frightened mam aside and replied: “I know he lives there, bus I'll be ——11 %' think he pays his rent.” The Strangling Arm. It is unpleasant to look back ana think this horror all over again. When my mind reverts to it my hands mechanically close, and the palms become sticky with a cold moisture. At the time of this occurrence I was acting in the capacity of United States Revenue Offi- cer, and found myself up in the northern pard, of Nevada, near the Indian reservation quare' ters, at a new mining settlement. : The saloon was the best-equipped 1insti tution in camp, and I was there a gread deal during my stay, which was cut short in a most terrifying manner. I noticed from the day of my arrival that a young Piute Indiam frequented the saloon and played poker with the white men a great deal. Generally he was successful and played his hands with intelli- gence. He always came into the room about 6 and remained until he was ahead of the game, | leAl\iing abruptly without even nodding a fare well. One evening during & severe snowstorm, when the saloon was pretty well filled With gamblers and miners, the Piute walked in and began to play. In less than an hour he had cleaned up over $2000, most of it being the savings of a white man who had just come in from his claim. As the play progressed Isaw that bad blood was ng between the two; the white man was particularly cross. Every time he lost his face would scowlup and he cursed the Indian roundly in an undertone. His opponent never changed his expres- sion, and finally it came down to the last stake of nearly $200. The miner drew two cards and the Indian one. Everybody else was out of the game. The Indian called the miner for nis last dollar and threw down a full hand— three queens and a pair of sevens. Those who stood near saw by the white man’s face that he had lost. For the first time during the week I was there the Indian smiled contemptuously across the table. Quicker than & flash the miner whipped out his knife, and, rising from his seat, fairly shrieked, “Take that, you red devil,” and made a lunge at his opponent. He failed to deliver the goods in a vital spot and the blade swept across the cheek of the redskin, drawing a gush of blood that splashed all over the cards. Instantly the two closed in on each other and reeled out into the snow, struggling and striving to kill. As is the custom in the moun- tains the other men stood back and let them fight it out. They s 2d to and fro, cutting and slashing each other like maniacs. Allof a sudden the Indian fell forward and the erim- son blood poured out of his mouth as the death rattle came in his throat. In less than a minute he was dead and soon began to stiffen. The white man, with the exception of a few flesh weunds, was unharmed. After the fight was over the crowd went back into the saloon, and the victorious man drank himself into & wild, howling drunk, pouring out the bitterest invectives over the conquered. After edoh drink he went to the bar and looked at the corpse to assure himself that the last spark had fled. Toward morning, aiter the excitement had died down I started for my room in the little hotel half a mile up the gulch. I had gone perhaps a hundred yards when I heard a wild, mocking burst of laughter but a short distance behind me, and in another mo- ment the miner passed, trailing the bloody arm of the Indian in the snow, having taken it irom the dead msan as a trophy of war. He staggered on, while I stood looking at him in horror. A long trail of red marked his course to the room immediately adjoining mine, into which he reeled,cursing and laughing almost in. the same breath. Thesound of his demoniacal jeers in the morning air were terrible to hear. With great caution I got into my room, not caring to further disturb the man, who was crazed with drink and maddened by the sight of his victim’s blood. With little noise I lay down on my couch, but found it impossible to sleep. In the room next I could hear the drunken miner mutter- ing to himself, and as though he were talking to the bloody arm and calling up the incidents of his ghoulish work. Finally the gibberish ceased and presently I heard the fiend snoring in peaceful sleep. While I lay there wondering whether or not retribution would be meted out to the murderer, the snoring suddenly ceased, and the next instant I heard a harsh sound as if some one was choking. Immediately following this came a long, half-smothered yell, a suppressed curse and a gasp that could only come from & man dying from strangulation. In a few seconds came the dull sound as of a falling body, and I could almost picture a form in its last convul- sions. Igot up, stepped out on the narrow porch and peered into the room. There on the floor, his eyes bulging from their sockets and looking upward, lay the white man, with the Indian's gnarled and twisted hand half hidden in his purple throat, the arm bending lovingly around the neck, quivering with fury and smesring its coagu- lated blood into the dead man’s face as the powerful fingers choked their victim to death,