6 STORY f\J THE MAKER j OF MOONS! a & : 1 By < ► ' <}> jt ROBERT W. CHAMBERS & s < ► <#> < > 4 ► & \ I Illustrations by J. J. Sheridan i 1 i■ •-?. • t (Copyright, G. P. Putnam's Sons.) SYNOPSIS. Ttie utory opens In NVw York, Hoy Car tenhue. the story-teller, inspecting a queer reptile owned by George Godfrey of Tiirany's. Hoy and Barris und Pierpont, two friends, depart on a hunting trip to Cardinal Woods, a rather obscure local ity. Harris revealed the fact that he had Joined the secret service for the purpose of running down a gang of gold makers.- Prof. LaGrange, on discovering the Kane's formula, had been mysteriously killed. Barris received a telegram of in structions. He and Pierpont set out to locate the gold making gang. A valet re ported seeing a queer Chinaman in the supposedly untenanted woods. Hoy went hunting. He fell asleep in a dell. On awakening he beheld a beautiful girl at a smalt lake. A birthmark, resembling a dragon's claw, on Roy's forehead had a mysterious effect upon the girl, who said her name was Ysonde. Suddenly she dis appeared. Fleeing in terror Hoy beheld a horrible Chinese visage peering at him from the woods. Barris and Pierpont re turned- Barris exhibited a reptile, like that owned by Godfrey. A ball of sup posed Kold, he lield, suddenly became alive. He told of the Kuen-Yuin, a Chi nese nation of sorcerers, numbering 100,- ooo.oon, and explained that the Moon Ma ker. their ruler, whose crescent symbol was a dragon claw, was supposed to have recently returned to earth. Harris Pier pont and Roy failed to lind Ysonde's dell. Hoy, hunting, came to the beauti ful spot, where he found Ysonde. She told him how her stepfather, evidently a Chinaman, made gold and of his mysteri ous actions. CHAPTER Vl.—Continued. "Where is this city?" 1 asked, faintly. "Yian? I don't know. It is sweet with perfume and the sound of silver boils all day long. Yesterday I carried a blossom of dried lotus buds from Yian, in my breast, and all the woods were fragrant. Did you smell it?" "Yes." "I wondered, last night, whether you did. How beautiful your dog is; I love hiin. Yesterday I thought most about your dog, but last night—" "Last night," I repeated, below my breath. "I thought of you. Why do you wear the dragon-claw?" I raised my hand impulsively to my forehead, covering the scar. "What do you know of the dragon-claw?" I mut tered. "It is the symbol of Yue-Laou, and Yue-Laou rules the Kuen-Yuin, my stepfather says. My stepfather tells me everything that I know. We lived in Yian until I was 16 years old. I am 18 now; that is two years we have lived in the forest. Look!—see those scarlet birds! What are they? There are birds of the same color in Yian." "Where is Yian, Ysonde?" I asked, with deadly calmness. "Yian? I don't know." I "Hut you have lived there?" "Yes, a very long time." "Is it across the ocean, Ysonde?" "It is across seven oceans and the great river which is longer than from the earth to the moon." "Who told you that?" "Who? My stepfather; he tells me everything." "Will you tell me his name, Ysonde?" "1 don't know it, he is my stepfa ther, that is all." "And what is your name?" "You know it, Ysonde." "Yes, but what other name?" "That is all, Ysonde. Have you two names? Why do you look at me so impatiently?" "Does your stepfather make gold? Have you seen him make it?" "Oh, yes. He made it also in Yian, and I loved to watch the sparks at night whirling like golden bees. Yian Is lovely —if it is all like our garden and the gardens around. I can see the thousand bridges from my garden and the white mountain beyond—" "And the people—tell me of the peo ple, Ysonde!" I urged, gently. "The people of Yian? I could see them in swarms like ants—oh! many, many millions crossing and recrossing the thousand bridges." "Rut how did they look? Did they dress as I do?" "I don't know. They were very far away, moving specks on the thousand bridges. For 16 years I saw them every day from my garden, but I never went out of my garden into the streets of Yian, for my stepfather forbade me." "You never saw a living creature near by in Yian?" I asked in despair. "My birds; oh, such tall, wise-look ing birds, all over gray and rose color." Slio leaned over the gleaming water and drew her polished hand across the surface. "Why do you ask me these ques tions," she murmured; "are you dis pleased ?" "Tell me about your stepfather," I Insisted. "Does he look as I do? Does he dress, does he speak as I do? is he American?" "American? I don't know. He does uot dress as you do and he does not look as you do. He is old, very,very old. He speaks sometimes as you do, sometimes as they do ia Yian, I speak also in both manners." "Then speak as they do in Yian," I urged, impatiently, "speak as—why, Ysonde! why are you crying? Have I hurt you?—l did not intend—l did not dream of your caring! There, Ysonde, forgive me—see, I beg you on my knees here at your feet." I stopped, my eyes fastened on a small golden ball which hung from her waist by a golden chain. I saw it trembling against her thigh, I saw it change color, now crimson, now pur ple, now flaming scarlet. It was the symbol of the Kuen-Yuin. She bent over me and laid her fin gers gently on my arm. "Why do you ask me such things?" she said, while the tears glistened on her lashes. "It hurts me here —" she pressed her hand to her breast—"it pains—I don't know why. Ah, now your eyes are hard and cold again; you are looking at the golden globe which hangs from my waist. Do you wish to know also what that is?" "Yes," I muttered, my eyes fixed on the infernal color flames which sub sided as I spoke, leaving the ball a pale gilt again. "It is the symbol of the Kuen-Yuin," she said, in a trembling voice; "why do you ask?" "Is it yours?" "Y —yes." "Where did you get it?" I cried, harshly. "My—my stepfa—" Then she pushed me away from her with all the strength of her slender wrists and covered her face. If I slipped my arm about her and drew her to me—if I kissed away the tears that fell slowly between her fingers—if I told her how I loved her —how it cut me to the heart to see her unhappy—after all, that is my own business. When she smiled through her tears, the pure love and sweetness in her eyes lifted my soul higher than the high moon vaguely glimmering through the sunlit blue above. My happiness was so sudden, so fierce and overwhelming that I only knelt there, her fingers clasped in mine, my eyes raised to the blue vault and the glimmering moon. Then something in the long grass beside me moved close to my knees and a damp acrid odor filled my nostrils. "Ysonde!" I cried, but the touch of her hand was already gone and my "Flung Like a Corpse on My Own 1 Threshold." two clenched fists were cold and damp | with dew. "Ysonde!" I called again, my tongue j stiff with fright—but I called as one | awakening from a dream —a horrid [ dream, for my nostrils quivered with j the damp acrid odor and I felt the j crab-reptile clinging to my knee. Why had the night fallen so swiftly—and where was I —where?—stiff, chilled, torn and bleeding, lying flung like a corpse over my own threshold with Voyou licking my face and Harris stooping above me in the light of a lamp that flared and smoked in the night breeze like a torch. Faugh! the choking stench of the lamp aroused me and I cried out: "Ysonde!" CHAPTER VII. "What the devil's the matter with him?" muttered Pierpont, lifting me in his arms like a child; "has he been stabbed, Harris?" In a few minutes I was able to stand and walk stiffly into my bedroom where Howlett had a hot bath ready and a hotter tumbler of Scotch. Pier pont sponged the blood from my throat where it had coagulated. The cut was slight, almost invisible, a mere punc ture from a thorn. A shampoo cleared my mind, and a cold plunge and alco hol friction did the rest. ' "Now," said Pierpont, "swallow your hot Scotch and lie down. Do you want a broiled woodcock? Good, I fancy you are coming about." Harris and Pierpont watched me as I sat on the edge of the bed, solemnly chewing on the woodcock's wishbone and sipping my Bordeaux, very much at my ease. Pierpont sighed his relief. "So," he said, pleasantly, "it was a mere case of ten dollars or ten days. I thought you had been stabbed—" "I was not intoxicated," I replied, serenely picking up a bit of celery. "Only jagged?" inquired Pierpont, full of sympathy. "Nonsense," said Barris, "let him alone. Want some more celery, Roy? It will make you sleep." "I don't want to sleep," I answered; "when are you and Pierpont going to catch your gold-maker?" Barris looked at his watch and closed it with a snap. "In an hour; you don't propose togo with us?" "But I do —toss mo a cup of coffee, Pierpont, will you—that's just what 1 propose to do. Howlett, bring tlie new box of Pantella's—the mild imported; and leave the decanter. Now, Barris, I'll be dressing, and you and Pierpont CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, MARCH 4, 1909 keep still and listen to what I have to say. Is that door shut tight?" Harris locked it and sat down. "Thanks," said I; "Barrls, where la the city of Ylan?" An expression akin to terror flashed into Harris* eyes and I saw him stop breathing for a moment. "There is no such city," he said at length, "have I been talking in my sleep?" "It is a city," I continued, calmly, "where the river winds under the thousand bridges, where the gardens are sweet scented and the air is filled with the music of silver bells—" "Stop!" gasped Harris, and rose trembling from his chair. He had grown ten years older. "Roy," interposed Pierpont, coolly, "what the deuce are you harrying Bar ris for?" I looked at Barris and he looked at me. After a second or two he sat down again. "po on, Roy," he said. "I must," I answered, "for now I am certain that I have not dreamed." I told them everything; but, even as I told it, the whole thing seemed so vague, so unreal, that at times I stopped with the hot blood tingling in ears, for it seemed impossible that sensible men, in the year of our Lord 1896, could seriously discuss such mat ters. I feared Pierpont, but he did not even smile. As for Barris, he sat with his handsome head sunk on his breast, his unlighted pipe clasped tight in both hands. When I had finished, Pierpont turned slowly and looked at Harris. Twice he moved his lips as if to ask something and then remained mute. "Yian is a city," said Barris, speak ing dreamily; "was that what you wished to know, Pierpont?" He nodded silently. "Yian is a city," repeated Barris, "where the great river winds under the thousand bridges—where the gar dens are sweet scented, and the air is filled with the music of silver bells." My lips formed the question: "Where is this city?" "It lies," said Barris, almost querul ously, "across the seven oceans and the river which is longer than from the earth to the moon." "What do you mean?" said Pier pont. "Ah," said Barris, rousing himself with an effort and raising his sunken eyes, "I am using the allegories of an other land; let it pass. Have I not told you of the Kuen-Yuin? Yian is the center of the Kuen-Yuin. It lies hidden in that gigantic shadow called China, vague and vast as the midnight heavens—a continent unknown, im penetrable." "Impenetrable," repeated Pierpont, below hi 3 breath. "I have seen It," said Barris, dream ily. "I have seen the dead plains of Black Cathay and I have crossed the mountains of Death, whose summits are above the atmosphere. I have seen the shadow of Xangi cast across Abad don. Better to die a million miles from Yezd and Ater Quedah than to have seen the white water-lotus close in the shadow of Xangi! I have slept among the ruins of Xaindu, where the winds never cease and the Wulwulleh is wailed by the dead." "And Yian," 1 urged, gently. There was an unearthly look 011 his face as he turned slowly toward me. (TO BE CONTINUED.) CANNIBALISM IS STILL ALIVE. Evidently Work Remains for Mission aries in Africa. "You may be interested to know," says J. J. Reynard of the Cape-to-Cairo telegraph construction staff, "that can nibalism still survives and is, to my knowledge, practiced by the Chikanda dwelling along the Zambezi and Shire rivers. A case came to my notice last year. The body of a celebrated hunter, who had succumbed to fever, was ex humed and devoured. At one impor tant center of the Shire the cemetery has to be guarded to prevent the na tives devouring the newly buried bodies. "As far as I know, cannibalism Is not practiced openly by tribes in the country with which I am acquainted. The natives who devour our dead be lieve that if they eat the body of a European they will acquire his intelli gence, just as they eat the heart of a Lion because they believe they will gain the courage of the lion. "The Mambwe, of the Tanganyika, regard the lion as sacred, and believ ing implicitly in the transmigration of the soul, hold that the spirit of a dead chief enters into the body of a lion or python. Those animals are therefore taboo, unless they kill man, when the taboo is withdrawn." Tree Death Trap for Birds. Queensland, Australia, has a curious tree which ensnares and kills insect life and sometimes birds also. A traveler says of it:"The seed vessels of the Queensland upas tree, 'Ahmoo' of the blacks (Pisonia Brunoniana), which are produced on spreading leaf less panicles, exude a remarkably vis cid substance approaching birdlime in consistency and evil effect. Sad is tho fate of any bird which, blundering in its flight happens to strike against any of the many traps which the tree in unconscious malignity hangs out on every side. In such event the seed clings to the feathers, the wings be come fixed to tho sides, the hapless bird falls to the ground and as it struggles heedlessly gathers more of the seeds, to which leaves and twigs adhere, until by aggregation it is in closed In a mass of vegetable debris as firmly as a mummy in its clothes." Our Pleasant Vices. The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices make instruments to plague ua. —Shakespeare. HERE'S A NEAT LITTLE PUZZLE. Seema Simple, But Will Occupy You for a Few Minutes. The Paris Temps publishes this story: "While in the Orient a French man bought a diamond studded cross, which he sent to his wife in Paris. To guard against possible theft he noti fied her that counting from the bottom to the top there were seven diamonds, and counting from the bottom to the end of each branch there were also seven diamonds, thus: • ••• • • • "When he returned home he found that two diamonds 'nad been stolen from the cross, but that, from top to bottom the number was still seven, and that counting from the bottom up to either branch there were still seven diamonds, as designated by him in his letter of warning. Figure it out, It's a nice little puzzle." THE BUGVILLE BASEBALL GAME. Jim Ant—Run, fellows run! Bill Beetle—What's up? Jim Ant —Why, here comes the fly cop! Professor Munyon has just issued a most beautiful, useful and complete Al manac; it contains not only all the scien tific information concerning the moon's phases, in all the latitudes, but has il lustrated articles on how to read char acter by phrenology, palmistry and birth month. It also tells all about card reading, birth stones and their meaning, and gives the interpretation of dreams. It teaches beauty culture, manicuring, gives weights and meas ures, and antidotes for poison. In fact, It is a Magazine Almanac, that not only gives valuable information, but will afford much amusement for every member of the family, especially for parties and evening entertai ments. Farmers and people In the rural dis tricts will find this Almanac almost invaluable. It will be sent to anyone absolutely free on application to the MUNYON REMEDY COMPANY, PHILADEL PHIA. Her Logic. Anna Margaret had a great many toys, and her mother thought she ought to give some of them away be fore Christmas to less fortunate chil dren. Anna Margaret was willing to part with the broken trunk and the cracked set of dishes and the one legged Teddy bear, and a few other toys that were in the same dilapidated condition. But when it came to her pet baby doll, the one that went to sleep with her every night, she re belled. Mother assured her that Santa Claus would undoubtedly bring her an other doll, even better; but she re fused to be comforted. "Mother," she wailed, "if God sent | Aunt Jessie another baby, would she give Baby Jean away?" She kept her doll. —Harper's Bazar. This Will Interest Mothers. Motlipr Gray's Sweet Powders for Chil dren, used by Mother Gray, a nurse In Children's Home, New York, cure Consti pation, Feverlshness, Teething Disorders, Stomach Troubles and Destroy Worms; 30,000 testimonials of cures. All druggists, 25c. Sample FREE. Address Allen S. Olm sted, Le Roy, N. Y. Invention of Porcelain. At a display of porcelain in China an exhibitor said that Chinese litera ture ascribes the invention of porce lain to a period some 25 centures be fore Christ. 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