The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 20, 1898, Page 22

TRAINING CITY DOGS FOR ' | A HARD LIFE IN ALASKA Months Spent in Coaxing Them to Pull a Sled, Eat One Scant Meal a Day and Wear Pads on Their Feet. OME on, Bingo— that's a good fellow. Step out lively, now. Oh, confound it all! Why can’t vou keep those legs of yours where they belong? Mules ain’t in it with dogs for all-around obstinacy and chuckle-headedness.” The gate was ajar and I pushed it a trifle wider open and looked in. I be- held a rather large inclosure, bounded on one side by a low shed, divided into small stalls, with a passageway at one end of the structure which led into a smaller yard, the back yard of the building and stable situated on the cor- ner of the avenue. Just across from me there were two men and a half-grown boy, a long, low sled, laden with a miscellaneous col- lection of old junk, and a very-much- ashamed-of-himself-looking dog, appa- rently inextricably tangled up in a lot The dog looked em- of canvas straps. 3 barrassed and apologetic; his wet pink tongue hung limply from his inanely grinning jaws, and the end of his bushy tall wagged feebly in would-be propitiation, but he did not appear either consclence-strick® or alarmed. Evidently the accident which had hap- pened to him was one which might appen to any other fellow under sim- ilar circumstances, and although he would rather it had not occurred, as it was unpleasing to be placed in a rid- fculous position, even temporarily, he did not feel that it was at all serious or that it would entail any disagreeable equences to himself. glanced at the sign on the gate, “Klondike dogs for sale,” and unde stood the matter at once. This was a training school for canine burden-bear- ers preparatory to their departure for Alaskan seryice, and Bingo, the ami ble but awkward, was taking a son in the art of wearing harness and for either tricks or work makes a fool of himself and spoils his pupil com- pletely, if he strikes him a blow? Dogs simply won't learn that way.” I lcoked at Bingo and his companions in captivity with a new intereest and admiration. In these days of driving and being driven it is a pleasing thing to find something that is not amenable to the usual law of painful compulsion, even if the exception to the rule be but a mongrel dog. “How do you manage them, then?” I asked, and Jim, busy, with the snarl of straps and buckles and dog's legs, came into the conversation with a wrathful snort. 'You have to have the patience of a dozen Jobs,” he said, “and you take your temper out in swearing. If you hit ’em a lick they’ll lie right down in the harness and stay there; you can’t get ’em on their feet again to do any good that trip. And the worst of it is that they put the hurt and the new ex- periment together in their minds, and they’ll always hate the harness after- ward and act like sin in it.” “We've trained eighty-five dogs so far,” said the smiling ‘boss,’ “and we haven’t turned out a balky one in the whole lot, but it has turned Jim gray- headed to wrestle with them. Mongrels —the long-haired ones— are the best for the business, for they are always strodger and healthier than pure- blooded close-bred dogs, but there's all kinds of dispositions among them, and what goes with one don’t go with the next one. In the first place you've got to make them understand clearly just what you want of them, and some are very dull of comprehension. You've got to make it perfectly plain to them, and show them over and over; coax them a little at first, and praise them when through his domain and made me ac- quainted with the various individuali- ties temporarily ¢enanting the place, and of him, as we made the rounds of the establishment, I learned, since he was possessed of much information which he had no hesitancy about put- ting into circulation, many things. He showed me harnesses, both of the collar and breast-strap kind, and in- formed me that the collar variety was preferable, for the reason that the breast strap “shut off the wind,” and a dog, with his wind shut off, wholly or in part, labors under a disadvantage when it comes to pulling heavy loads. He also showed me the little buckskin moccasins, some of them fleece-lined, which, securely tied above the dew- claw on the canine leg, protect the feet from frost, chillblains and ice cuts. I learned that since the Klondike:ex- citenent began and dogs of size, .buts no particular pedigree, came to be merchantable articles, our ~“fru Ttallan and Portuguese citizens, who formerly subsisted on the income de- rived from the crops raised in outlying- , vegetable gardens, have gathered the golden harvest from the sale of the dogs, who heretofore protected their small farms. Scores of dogs who seemed, less than a year ago, destined to spend their uneventful lives in frightening hoodlums from making predatory excursions into tempting strawberry and melon beds have found themselves torn from their homes and delivered over to the trainer, and thence carried to the icy land where cold and hungry, footsore and wretched they have worked and starved and suf- fered until death came and their poor, abused bodies have been fed to their less fortunate—because still alive—com- panions. These “dago dogs,” as they are called, are, however, not the only ones that have been swept northward by the tide of human necessity, but from all over the coast, from cities and villages and ranches dogs have been collected on speculation and shipped to Alaska. The voyage up is particularly hard on them, for they suffer from cramped quarters, sea-sickness and each other’s ill tem per. When they arrive in port they are generally a sorry looking lot, but they are usually sorrier before their life work is over. Life in the Klondike re- gion is hard enough for the men who go there of their own volition, but it is far after a while. the first hour teach if they only had two legs,” said Jim, “but they learn to manage all four Take a new one, though, and he seems to be a regular centiped you spend with him. TRAINING DOGS IN TANDEM FOR SLED USE IN ALASKA. From a Photograph Taken at a Big Dog Training Establishment In San Francisco. You've got to hold onto yourself to get along with 'em at money in it, so it's worth while.” But I, shaggy heads in which there was no all—but there’s looking pitifully at the big felt that I, forebodings of the cruel hardships com- ing daily nearer, and feeling Bingo’'s friendly, cold nose push against my hand as I passed him on my way out, “worth while” might be, should be an utter failure 2 a Klondike dog merchant for the rea¢ son that I should never have the heart to ship a single one of them to his though it doom. worse for the poor brutes who are car- ried prisoners and forced to wear out dragging sledges. Some of the dogs, of which at least dozen were sitting or lying in the stalls sleepily blinking in the sunshin watching Bingo’s misadventures an overdone affectation of lack whole busines: al interest therein, ga 1t sight of me and forced me into suddeA prominence. I introduced of them seem to think that th myself and was made welcome, the overgrown boy, however, bashfully disappeari I entered but others are more sensible, “It ms fun to train dogs,” man who from his was appearance 5 y of the occasion, but it 't fun to do it. Look at me now”—he v from head to them. foot—*that the indicating Bingo, 3 taken ngue in in honor advent and accepted a paton his head graciously, “dragged me ight round the yard at the end of his rope like a feather when I first took before they him out, just because he felt fresh and lively, and now he can’t go six steps in harness without trying to turn round and go backward for a change. He'd ought to have a good walloping, that's what he had!” The other man, the ringmaster, as it roking young fellow in a s suit and an apparently ever. “But they some stories where,” quoth known of men blooming smile, laughed pleasantly. right here In S “You'd be the last one to give it to same that isn him, Jim,” he said, “for you know too good work out And the to ruin invested capital in any r. Do you know’—this to me— “that the man who tries to train a dog things. they do the right thing. “First we get them so that they will wear a harness peaceably, without.try- ing to turn somersaults or chew the into shoestrings. we hitch a plank or piece of wood to the traces, and then the fun begins. a tin can or something of the kind tied to their tails, and they simply go cra a rope or chain around their necks, see,” waving an illustrative hand to- ward Bingo, who was by this time trot- ting pleasantly along beside the per- spiring Jim, “and we walk along with Sometimes we have to pull them a bit, and sometimes we hold a piece of meat in front of their noses. or other we get it into their heads that we want them to go along and drag things after*them, and it isn’t very long do it all right.” are whipped up in Alaska,” said I, remembering some of the grue- of cruelty thawed out and floated down to us, and w’ the smiling young man shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly. a miserable existence in unwilling and thankless service. They were beautiful dogs to which I was introduced, - every one of them, though not one of them showed the dis- tinctive “points” which would have gained him the respectful consideration of a true dog fancier. They were all long-haired, or what is technically known as “‘rough-coated” animals, and all in excellent condition, as their diet and general health is carefully lcoked out for for some time before sending them away. “Pick up a dog and send him up off- hand,” said my kindly host, “and you might as well send a dead one for all the good he will be. We get them used to one regular meal a day, and Klon- dike fare at that, and when our output arrives every dog in it is worth having. They’'ll drag heavy loads, make good time and live on cracklings or tallow and meal.” Binga was through with his lesson by this time and was relegated to his stall, ile two of his companions, whose e ucation had been longer under wa; were brought out, harnessed tandem fashion, and driven merrily around the Then Some ve got We have you Some way which have daughter. I kept my home for this lit- is small, but the soldier or sailor Is “found” and has little need of spend- REGREJS THE STEP THA) MADE HIM A HERMIT. T the side of a hill near the Alms- house is a hut, the front of which has a door and one window. back is built into the hill. Only a short piece - of pipe peeps through the roof, giving the outside Some. world the knowledge of a stove. The one room—which serves as a kitchen, sitting room and bedroom—is extremely neat. The A bookcase is the only luxury outside of the necessary furniture. And its occupant? beard and hair white as the drifting snow and eyes that retain a wonderful brightne He is tall shoulders are stooped of many years. His v An old man, with although his ith the weight ice is gentle and kind, bespeaking a true gentleman. with bread and butter; at another something to put in his sack; and by the time his last visit iIs made his full sack contains enough in quality and variety to keep him through the week.” One would think this 0.d man lone- Not so, for although he seldom speaks to any one except on his regu- lar visits he finds much to occupy his mind. His dog, which guards the hut day and night, and his books are his daily companions. “I have no name now,” he said in an- swer to a question. "I am unknown to the world, and so let me remain, Call me the Hermit, or what you will, but the name I had in the world of activity has long ago died.” “How long have you been in San Francisco?” I asked. . “Ever since the early part of the '50's tle girl, who had all the advantages bf a good education, music and language {ncluded. One day I returned from my office and found my daughter gone. Af- ter a diligent search she was located in a place where good girls should not be. I kept my home, with the vain hope that she would some day return, until I heard of her miserable death. Broken hearted I sold everthing and fled to the hills to find peace and comfort in the quietness of nature, and here I still am.” “Do you not sometimes wish yourself back in the city?” “Sometimes I do, and regret the hasty and foolish step I took; but I have become accustome.. to my sur- roundings and expect to remain here till I die.” e —— DESERTIONS ARE NOT COMMON. The recent arrest in Jamaica of an al- leged deserter from a warship in the Brooklyn Navy Yard was rather an un- usual event in this neighborhood. Sometimes soldiers stray from Willets Point or sailors from the navy yard get drunk and overstay their time, but that is an offense hardly to be called deser- ing money. The service is excellent for the health, especially in the case of men who have suffered from too much whis- ky. The establishment of post schools, where enlisted men may repair the de- fects of their early education, is a good thing for the Tommies and Jackies. It is quite possible for an ignorant, stoop- shouldered and consumptive young fel- low, scarcely knowing his A B C’s to be turned out at the end of a term of enlistment in the army a taller, bigger, handsomer man, with a full chest, a good education, the habit of command as a petty officer and encugh money saved to embark in some small business for himself. S ML OC R 2 e Great Explorer’'s Friend (as the lat- ter is about to start)—Well, professor, you've arranged for your lectures and book when you come back, “haven't you? Great Explorer—Yes; also my testi- monials are written for the canned goods, the clothing, .the boats and the cooking utensils. All I have to do now is to get lost, and my fortune is made. “There are brutes and fools every- , being a person of tact, he turned my attention to more agreeable He personally conducted me he, oracularly. “I have inclosure for my beating horses to death an Francisco, but all the 't the best way to get of them.” holding their heads well over the traces. “Dogs edification. seemed to enjoy the performance huge- up and wagging their tails whenever ahalt was called, and the only mistake they made was occasionally getting their hind feet would be a sight easier to Every 'morning hé starts off for a long walk. About once’or twice a week he takes a sack under his arm and with the aid of his cane finds hisway upand down the hills into the midst of civili- zation. There are several families whom he visits, and at the first place he usually gets a cup of hot coffee, They me! cisco. I ,was well known then, and some of the prominent men engfged in busi- ness with me in those days are still living. Ah! those were happy days for Why did I give up that life? I was here just fifteen years when I mar- ried one of the best girls in San Fran- After a fi bliss she died, leaving a three-year-old tion. ew years of wedded by his enlistment. The service of Uncle Sam has become much more attractive of recent years than it was in the past. chance of getting into the command of a brutal officer, the wearer of the blue has a pretty good opportunity to profit Of course the pay —Boston Journal. B e~ Wife—Ré&ally, Fred, I must say I think you are the worst-dressed man in_the town. Hubby—And you, my dear, are the best-dressed woman, which accounts for it. Barring the {LQRD ©F THE E came out of the West—but that was the only respect in which he resembled Lochinvar. In- deed, the points of dissimilarity were noticeable. He had no fair Ellen; his steed, a knétty little mountain animal, was far from being the best on all the wide border, and, naturally, he did not bring it with him to Chicago. What he did bring was a bulging pocketbook. Not knowing exactly what to do with the contents, he bought an astonishing amount of gay summer linen and scandal- ized a discreet meighborhood by sending “quantities of American beautfes to Mrs. Haddon Worcester, whom he had met out at Denver, and whose husband had interests identical with his own in certain mining ventures. Mr: Worcester was somewhat annoyed by these attentions, but understanding that they were only a part of the habitual exuberance by which Thaddeus Gaylord was dis- tinguished, she accepted them with patience. He even insisted that she should lunch with him at his hotel, and she consented, but just as she was leaving her house to keep this appointment a young woman alighted from a cab, satchel and guitar case in hand, and presented herself at Mrs. Worcester’s door. 3 * cried Mrs. Worcester, kissing f the girl, “I thought you were not _Surely you said commencement day 5 too tired to wait for commencement,” said the thought I would come and see you." elcome as you can be, my dear, and you like your mother—which makes you even more jus me. But 1 must tell you why I have my hat on. I'm in- vited to Juncheon with a gentleman from your own town, from Denver, who is a friend of Mr. orcester’ My friend will be delighted to have you come with me. an hour later Thaddeus Gaylord took her:pliable little hand In his. ‘I call this kind of Mrs. Worceste: said he; count myself complimented! Mrs. Worcester, madam, you have honored me.” He led the way to the dining-room. Gaylord was of uncertain age. He appeared to be a man who would never grow old. His dark hair was wiry and Intractable. His eyes were blue and full of frankness. His mustache was so voluminous, so long, and so gen- erally reckless in its appearance that it seemed llke the caricature of a mustache. His white hands had certain protuberances on them, which indicated titat he knew the shovel and pick—but that’s no shame to a miner, as he would have explained—and his skin, naturally tender and sensitive, bore marks of exposure.. The luncheon was quite wonderful, even for that hos- telry, and the conversation was so0 interesting that a num- ber of listeners made a feint of lingering over their des- eert to hear as much of it as possible. After luncheon Gaylord called for the best rig in the establishment. But no sooner had he laid his eyes upon it than his jocund spirit appeared to undergo some trans- formation. “That hearse,” said he to the attendant, “is intended for me, is it?” “Yes, sir. It is quite the most correct thing we have, 'Mr. Reynolds,” sald Gaylord to the clerk. “I asked vou for a rig to take two ladies riding. I didn't ask you look = for a hearse, sir. I'm not one of the mourners! the corpse, damned if I am! Get me a wagon, si cart—something yellow.” A few minutes later Gaylord was driving two bright chestnuts up the Lake Shore drive, before a yellow road cart, and every time the chestnuts lifted their dainty legs there was a clanking of brazen chains. ‘“Now, this,’ d Gaylord, fairly unfurling his splendid mustache to the wind, in the exuberance of his enjoyment, “reminds me of Denver. Now, I feel at home!"” After that Gaylord called every day at the Worees- ters and saw the ladies. Two bunches fl% roses came daily to the house now, and the roses for ‘Miss Lowman were invariably white—and sometimes the flowers were not roses at all, but lilies. Mrs. Worcester did not- want to shirk responsibility, but she rather hastened the departure of her guest, and explained afterward to Gaylord that she had been sum- moned by her father, who wanted her at home. “Why didn’t you telegraph me, madam? I'd have gone with hér—indeed I would. I would have seen her safe to her journey's end. Who knows what annoyances she may encounter? You ought to have told me, and 1 can’t un- derstand why you didn't!” It is necessary to record the fact that Thaddeus was not known to the fashionable set of Denver. But on his return and upon finding that Miss Heth Lowman had been introduced to society at Mrs. Dexter's afternoon he grew socially ambitious. He went to Vernon Harcourt Beresford with his dif- fieulty. Beresford lent a sympathetic ear. “I'll bring you out, my boy!" cried Beresford. “Tll give you a chance to make your virgin bow to society at my table, and I'll have pecple there who will make the rest easy. You ought to shine in Denver soclety, Gaylord, I'm dashed if you oughtn't. But the first thing you must do, man, Is to get yourself in proper gear.” “You don’t like my clothes?” lothes? Do you .call those clothes? Gaylord, I hate to tell you, but the truth is, you have never dressed in your life. ~You have merely covered your nakedness. Now, you ought to have a_valet.” “Do—do you think so?” asked Gaylord, doubtfully. {But we don't raise valets out here. They don’t grow in this_soil.” ¢ “You might send to England for one. I know a man who will send you just the:fellow. Here's his address— had a letter from him to-day.” “I'll_cable him.' .ex. Gaylord, suddenly electri- fled. “T'll do it this minute.’ Ocean greyhounds are fleet, and so are the overland fliers, and in little more than a fortnight Richard Stubbs, a gentleman’s gentleman, knocked at Gaylord’s door at the Brown Palace. Ggylord shouted to come in and Richard Stubbs en- tered. “How do you do, sir,” sald Gaylord, rising, “I haven't the pleasure—" “Richard Stubbs, sir. of London, at your. service—the man you sent for, sir.”” “Man 1 sent—O, yes, yes! to meet you! I hope you had a pleasant Voyage. e beld out a welcoming hand and greeted the Englishman as If they were reunited brothers. There was a pause. Stubbs finally sald: “I'm ready to begin my duties, sir. If you will kindly tell me my room, I'll have my boxes taken up. And as you may ing out presently, sir, Fel'hlpl you will be kind enough to show me where I will find your ward- Glad to meet you, si gl‘aid e 51 rr')hs. Or you may wish me to attire you for luncheon, sir?” Gaylord, who had been glancing over the paper for the last few seconds, looked up in something akin to con- sternation. “Attire me for luncheon! Why, damme, man, T've got & the only clothes 1 have on' my back—except that- old diagonal suit for Sundays. Wardrobe! Merciful powers: Wardrobe! wardrobe, Stubbs, is in the closet. It consists of pajamas and a bathrobe.” “May I ask you, sir, under those circumstances, what my duties are {o be, and—begging your pardon—why you . sent for me, sir? Gaylord. stared 4 moment at the valet, and then went over to-him and good humoredly pushed him into a chair. “See here, Stubbs,” said he, “I'm going to be frank with you. T'm a miner. I've made my pile. I've traveled a hundred miles to every one of yours. T've known cold and hunger and rough living of all Sorts. But now that's over. I've two of the richest silver mines in the State. I'm at aglace where I can enjoy life, and I've earned my right to do it. I've got to stand on my Own merits as.a man, but I think 1I'd look better to the world in general if 1 had a tailor. Now, I want you to rub me down, so to speak, and send me out well groomed. In short, array me like Solomon. T'll place a bank account at your dis- posal and I want you to do the thing right.” Stubbs regarded him with a pair of honest bovine eyes for a moment. Then the man in him rose to meet the man in Gaylord, and they shook hands vigorously in sign of compact. This ceremony over, Stubbs became In-' stantly the valet, and was never for an iustant after- ward anything else. £ A week after this Vernon Harcourt Beresford gave a dinner, and the guest of honor was Thaddeus Gaylord, who, in the most conventional attire, storfes with a gusto all his own. There weré any number of people presént who were glad to make the ncgualnt- ance of a good story teller, because they gave. dimners themselves, and when the evening was Over the new as- pirant for social favors found himself in the" possession of a number of pleasant invitations. He went home exultant. It was now only a matter of a few days before he could meet Miss Lowman on_an equal footing. The first time Gaylord met Miss Lowman was at a dancing party given by Mrs, Thurlow Green.: Miss Low- man wore a severe frock of white, out of which arose her ’;mlsh neck, delicate as alabaster. Her face 'still bore a ook of innocent hauteur, and' her sweet volce was tuned to a minor ko‘i'. The young gentlemen of Denver had already dubbed her the jce maiden, but Mr. Thaddeus Gaylord was a Chinook wind, as he himself might have said had he undertaken a simile, and her frigidity did not even arrest his attention. The next day Gaylord calied. The next day after that he sent flowers. When he met_her at dinner at Mrs. Drexel's she was wearing some of them in her drad hair. After that he always sent flowers—every. day. Her father might well have Inquired into this devotion had it been her father’s nature to inquire into anything. But he was a distrait sort of man, who appgared to speculate absent- :cn;:gfily. and who seemed vaguely and largely suc- Stubbs saw the photograph of a girl on his patron's dressing table and drew his own concluslon—-psieclally after he found it one morning under his tleman’s pillow. In course of time a delicately painted minjature replaced the ghotomph. Stubbs was ablé to observe certain marked changes in his patron also. 4 told vociferous- One day, however, a cloud appeared on Stubbs’ horizon. It may or may not have been bigger than a man’s hand; Stubbs not in a position to say, because for some time he d no attention to it whatever. The first thing he noticed was that every morning Mr. Gaylord was i for his paper, and that he turned to the Washington news and read it feverishly. Later on the valet observed that a strange_anxiety lay upon the whole city. Excited talked " and gesticulated together-on the street Men lingered long in the barber shops, bar- anguing. The hotel rotundas were thronged at night, and, apparently, not for purposes of pleasure. Miners thronged the city by the thousands. fresh from the camps. Bulletins were eagerly read in the clubs and the news paper windows. The rooms of the Mining Exchange hummed like a hive with men. One morning the papers printed the mews that India had suspended the coinage of silver. That day there were three suicldes at Rico and two at Ouray—and perhaps some others elsewhere, of which no one took note The air was electric with presage of disaster. Gaylord ate nothing all day, and that evening he stayed in his room —a thing he had not done since he returned from Chicago. About this_time Colorado began to make new fashions for itself. Beresford invited his friends to dine with him under the auspices of the Sheriff. So they came—all the merry old rounders, and drank good wine under the nose of the Sheriff—who drank as much as anybody. In fact, Mrs. Beresford, in_her corn-colored satin, held aloft an jridescent goblet of twisted glass in ber hand and cried: “Ty the Sheriff,”’ and the company drained the amber liquid to him, while he came in from an anteroom to bow his acknowledgments. Up in the camps hard-luck dinners became the rage. One dinner was given at Rico to which ten penniless men sat down who had been millionaires, or well on the way to be such, the week before. The food they ate was ob- tained on credit, and they sent out a telegram asking for passes to Denver—which they got. The days passed feverishly. Men walited «for the final blow. It came. The Sherman act was repealed. The Government no longer guaranteed the purchase of silver] Gaylord came to Stubbs with the old wnimsical smile about his face. “I'm done for,” he said, “I'm cleaned out, Stubbs. But there's a lot of ethers traveling my road, and I'm not going to feel lonesome. I'm simply going to pack my gri and get out. If you want to go with me, you may. g brought you over here and )'gu may share my fortunes to the end if vou wish. Buf I give you fair warning they'll be misfortunes from-this time on for a while. Of “course, I'll get on my feet again somehow, but I don’'t know when nor where nor how. I'm used to roughing it, and I don’t mind—at least, I wouldn’'t mind but for one thing—but that's neither here nor there. Now, what will you do? I'm with you, Stubbs! Say your Say ‘Why, sir,” sald the man, touched by his employer's misfortunes, “there’s a very respectable place in a bar- ber’'s shop that will be open to me, and I'll be better there. I'd be a burden to you, sir, but I'll be well pro- vided for, and in condition—I beg your pardon, sir, but you'll understand how I mean it—to be or some assist- ance to you, should you need it at any time.”” The tears were in Gaylord’s eyes in a second. “No, no, Stubbs, I shan't need your assistance, I hope. But if I do, I'll ask for it and be proud to—and there’s my hand on it. I don’t know yvet where I'll go, but there are many reasons why the sooner I get away from here the better.” . “That night Thaddeus Gaylord left Denver. Stubbs re- turned-to his master’s old apartments at the Brown . Palace and was gathering up such of his trinkets as he had not packed, when a nervous little knock at the door arrested him. He opened it to the lady of the miniature. “He is gone?"’ she almost whispered. “Mr. Gaylord is really gone?”’ She held a note in her hand which Stubbs at once saw was in his departed patron’s handwriting. “He. is gone, madam,” said Stubbs, bowing profoundly. She walked back and forth in the room in apparent distress of mind: “You are his man?” she asked at length, stopping suddenly and facing Stubbs. “ am, and I I can be of any service to you pray let me know, ma'am. I'm sure Mr. Gaylord would wish me to do .n&(hlnx in my power—or—or his, ma'am.” . “Mr: Gaylord,” said the lady, “‘was—was a friend of mine, . He has gone just when I needed him most. not know what to do—what to do—what to do!” wrung her pretty little hands together. “Won’t you tell me what I can do for you, ma’am. There is certainly something!" % “Listen!"” she said, drawing near the valet and looking at him with dilated eyes. “I have something so terrible to say that you will hardly belleve me! No one knows yet—not a soul. As soon as I found it out I locked the door and came here. I ran all the way. I knew the number of his room, and I came right here—and he is gone. I had a note saying he was going, but I thought I might get here in time. Do you know what has happenea? My father—' she took hold of the valet’s sleeve—groping tofr'human sympathy—"“my poor father has killed him- self!” By and by she grew calmer and permitted him to in- form the proper persons and to send for- her carriage * and see her safe home. He sent out tele?-c.ms after the departing train on which his patron had goi but no Tesponse came. The death of George Lowman attracted but little at- Al When the news of his insolvency and his suicide had over- as to the tention. went abroad people simply concluded that the estimated his wealth and had been mistakel source from which it came. His daughter’s existence was unknown to many of those who had an acquaintance with her father, for it was but a few weeks since she came to the city. The women who had taken it upon themselves to introduce her and to show her courtesies were kind now, and invited her to their houses and sent flowers. The poor child turned toward them a white face of refusal and shut her doors on all the world. She dis- missed the servants the next morning and bent herself to the task of lobking after her father's affairs. She gave the whole thing over finally into the hands of his attorneys and quitted the place at twilight, when none might see her, with no attendant save the faithful Stubbs. He had sent her trunk to a quiet place in the suburbs, where the mountains looked down on a grass-growh table land and white streets, irrigating ditches apd clumps of wild willows. For several days she did little but lie on the settee and watch the rise and fall of the fire. The conscious- ness that she would soon be yennness had prompted her to forbid Stubbs to let any of her few friends know her whereabouts. A few days more would bring her to pen- ury. Her proud little spirit would not endure the fiea of mendicancy, even in its most agreeable forms, and she shut herself close in the house and kept her heart- ache as her only guest. She kept a diary and made notes of her emotions, and she watched the malils, and was forever expecting a let- ter from Gaylord, who had gone, as he explained to her in his farewell note, to retrieve himself and would return to her only when he was once more a rich man. She was convinced that he was keeping watchful care over her when, about a month after her misfortunes, and just when her fortune looked’the blackest, an envelope came, containing a number of bills—quite enough to keep her in comfort for several weeks to come. She toid Stubbs about the money—she was confidential with Stubbs —and asked him ‘if he didn’t suppose Mr. Gaylord had caused his banker to send the money, which would ac- count for the Denver stamp mark on the envelope. Stubbs said that was a reasonable supposition, and little Miss Lowman was perfectly happy. As _the months went by the mysterious stipend con- tinued to come unfailln%ly. and Heth kept up her spirits and made herself useful. She loved the spot where she lived. The eagles flew over it sometimes and the moun- tains were seldom hidden. One day that which Heth expected happened. Stubbs had not called in the morning, as usual, and Miss Lowman, who had come to depend upon him for her morning J‘Japer. and any small.service she might wish erformed, wondered if he, were ill. . She sat at the win- ow sewing lace in the neck of her little gray Sunday frock, when she saw him coming down the street. And, gladness, gladness! He was not alone! Beside him strode a_ gentleman in resplendent attire—a gentleman with a flamboyant mustache—a gentleman who looked as if he were in the habit of having men and obstacles and even United States mail wagons get out of his way! She flew back to her own room and sat down and sewed some more of the lace in the neck of her frock with an air of deadly indifference. She heard some one bounding up the. stairs three at a time—ana she still sewed in the lace. She heard an impetuous knock at the door, and it burst open—Heth was just knotting a thread —and the next thing she knew she was not in her chair at all, or on the floor ‘at all, but—well, well, never mind. ‘“Well,” said he, ‘‘Heth, I'm back!” > No one smiled. Every one seemed to think the remark wll.f!I needed. it o “I'm on my feet again. I knew I would be—with yi waiting. Alaska salmon did it.. I canned the tafls.. ':.l'?l: - fools were throwlng away as much as they canned—I = swear they were. e g0t a cannery in the shadow .t: \'o;(e*aaq'and under the lid of a glarcyler and T want yé’\f Y z It didn't seem surprising to anybody that Gay should wish to take his bride to a saimon canneg.“""d 1 didn’t know your plight, dear child, till Stubbs told 2}1%2?’"“5‘ if T had known it, I'd have been home quick : » “But if you didn’t know about my misfortunes,” said she suddenly, “how was it that ‘you sent me that money every month? But for you I should have been a beggar and I know I should have broken my heart.” “Money,” sald Gaylord, “‘money!" Stubbs was making for the.d “Come back here, you rascal, arqund, sir.” B tubbs’ face was scarlet. - Look at that, my dear, will you” cried Gaylord, = 005 at 'that! Guilt painted on_every feature!' See that, my_dear!” Heth got up and slipped her hand in Stubbs’ big paw. *I hope you will never have to be parted from—from Mr. Gaylord—and—and me,” sald she. Gny:!;n;' was mopping his blue eyes. *“‘Stubbs,” he My fathers have said, Z “Don’t mention it sir, If you please. been gentlemen’'s men for flve generations, sir, and it would be queer if I didn’t understand a gentleman’s feel- ings, sir, and know what he would want dope under cer- el erid. Gavlor, throwin hi “How,” ¢ aylor, throw up his hand, “can even live up to Stubbs!” iLLA W. PEATTIE. 1 Copyright, 18%, by 8. S. McClure Cov cried Gaylord. “Turn