THE FREE LANCE.
"His good blade carves the casques of men, for the Free Lance
thrusteth sure."
Vol. XIV.
The work for the day was finished and, supper over, I
started out for my accustomed evening walk. It was late in
Indian summer and already the chilly winds of Fall were
becoming uncomfortable. Finding no interest in the busy
thoroughfare downtown or on the chilly benches in the park
facing the lake, I wandered away and after awhile found
myself in the neighborhood of one of the big railroad yards
of the city. •
A maze of tracks and a sea of cars stretched back into
the level country. It seemed like the "quiet hour" and for
awhile all was still, the silence being finally broken by the
silver notes from a bell in the distance. The gates at my
elbow clanged noisily down across the .street and a moment
later a big express engine backed slowly out from the smoky
round house, glided majestically by, and paused a short dis
tance down the tracks.
As the engine slowly passed me, I recognized the en
gineer with whom I had become acquainted under peculiar
circumstances, on account of which we had been staunch
friends ever since. He was (loin?: out on the "Fast Mail"
ARPIL, 1900.
SILENT JAKE.
(Founded on Faces.)
No. 1.