•
A GRIZZLY kef
HUNT m
by
THEODORE ROOSEVELT , j
i
(Copyright, 18? a by G. P. Putnam's Sons.
Published under arrangement with G. P.
Putnam's Sons, New York and London ]
out in the late fall or
tWfl Y early spring, it is often
2? I ■ possible to follow a bear's
trall In the snow having
come upon it ifher by |
•Stl/Sb chance or hard hunting, i
or else having found
where It loads from some carcass on
which the beast has been feeding, in
the pursuit one must exercise great
caution, as at such times the hunter
is easily seen a long way off. and game j
is always especially watchful for any
foe that may follow Its trail.
Once I killed a grisly in tills manner
It was early in tire fall, but snow lay j
/ N
-H s/(y/it whistle browjtil him to <i Mum/
on the ground, while the gray weathet i
boded a storm. My camp was in >
bleak, wind-swept valley, high among j
the mountains which form the divide \
between the head-waters of the Salmon I
■and Clarke's Fork of the Columbia
At dawn I rose and shook myself free '
of the buffalo robe, coated with hoar
frost The ashes of the fire were life
less; in the dim morning the air was :
bitter cold. 1 did not linger a moment. ,
but snatched up my rifle, pulled on my
fur cap and gloves, and strode off up ;
a side ravine; as I walked I ate some j
moutlifuls of venison, left over from j
supper.
Two hours of toil up the steep inoun j
tain brought tnc to the top of a spur
The sun had risen, but was hidden be 1
hind a bank of sullen clouds. On thej
divide 1 halted, and gazed out ovi ;• n j
* ast landscape, inconceivably wild nil'
dismal. For two hours I walked <>: i
wards across the ridges and vai vs.!
Then among some scattered spr os. j
where the snow lay to the dep: of,
half a foot, 1 suddenly came on thej
fresh, broad trail of a grisly, i'he
brute was evidently roaming restle •iy •
about in search of a winter den. iiut'
willing, in passing, to pick up auy (
food that lay handy. At once 1 t «>k,
the trail, travelling above and to •met
side, and keeping a Rhsrp loo!;ottt|
ahead The bear was going n-i ISSI
wind, and this made my tas!. easy. I !
walked rapidly, though cautiously.
At last, peering cautiously over a j
ridge crowned with broken rock". I ;
saw my quarry, a big. burly bear, wtt!• I
silvered fur. lie had halted on an
open hill-side, and was busily digging
up the caches of some rock gophers or
squirrels He seemed absorbed in hi; I
work, and the stalk was easy. Slip
ping quietly back. 1 ran towards tc
end of the spur, and in ten minutes
struck a ravine, of which one branch |
ran past within seventy yards of where |
the bear was working. In this ravine I
was a rather close growth of stunted j
evergreens, affording good cover, ill
though in one or two places I had
lie down and crawl through the snow ,
When I reached the point for which I j
was aiming, the bear bail just finished
rooting, and was starting off. A slight
whistle brought hitn to a standstill,
and I drew a bend behind his shoulder
and low down, resting the rifle across
the crooked branch of a dwarf spruce |
At the crack he ran off at speed, nig!; !
ing no sound, but the thick spatter • 112 j
blnod splashes, showing clear on th» I
wl ite snow, betrayed the mortal i
tun> of the wound. For some mint'
1 followed the trail: and then, top]
a ridge. I saw the dark bulk lyi" j
m- ilonless In a snow drift at the 112. t ;
of a low rock-wall down which he h <1 !
tumbled.
One day while camped near the Rit- i
ter Hoot Mountains in Montana Ifo I
that a bear had been feeding on the
carcass of a moose which lay some live
miles from the little open glade in j
which my tent was pitched, and I j
made up my mind to try to get a shot 1
at it that afternoon. I stayed in camp
till about three o'clock, lying lazily
back on the bed of sweet-smelling ever |
iwuijus, watching the pack po- j
nies as they stood under the pines on
the edge of the open, stamping now j
and then, and switching their tails. !
The air was still, the sky a glorious :
blue: at that hour In the afternoon
even the September sun was hot.
When the shadows began to length j
en. I shouldered my rifle and plunged
into the woods. At first my route lay I
along a mountain side: then for half a i
mile over a windfall, the dead timber !
plied about In crazy confusion. After
that I went up the bottom of a valley j
by a little brook, the ground being.
carpeted with a sponge of soaked
mnu
At the head of this brook was a pond j
covered with water lilies; and a scram
ble through a rocky pass took me into
a high, wet valley, where the thick
growth of spruce was broken by occa
sionai strips of meadow. In this valley
the moose carcass lay, well at the up
per end.
In moccasined feet I trod softly i
through the soundless woods, Under |
the dark branches It was already dus'. |
and the air had the cool chill "112 even
ing. As I neareil the clump where the j
body lay 1 walked with redoubled can j
tion, watching and listening with i
strained alertness. Then 1 heard a j
twig snap: and my blood leaped, for I j
knew the bear was at his supper. In j
another moment I saw his shaggy j
brown form, lie was working with ill j
his awkward giant strength, trying to j
bury the carcass, twisting it to one,
side and the other with wonderful
ease.
One he got angry and suddenly gave |
It a tremendous cuff with his paw: In j
his bearing he had something half lui |
niorous, half devilish. I crept up with J
In forty .varus: but for several minute-* I
he would net keep his head still. Tli )
something attracted liis attention li:
the forest, and he stood niotlonie. j
looking towards it. broadside to tie '
with his fore paws planted on the eg. - j
cass. This gave me my chance. I 1
drew a very tine bead between his eye I
and ear. and pulled trigger, lie drop ,
pod like a steer when struck with a j
pole-axe.
If there is a good hiding-place hand> i
It is better to lie in wait at the car ,
cass. One day on the head-waters of j
the Madison, I found that a bear was [
coming to an elk 1 had shot some |
! days before; and 1 at once determined
to ambush tlie beast wheu he came j
back that evening The carcass lay in j
the middle of a valley a quarter of a
mile broad. The bottom of this vallev !
was covered by an open forest of tall
pines: a thick jungle of smaller ever
greens marked where the mountains
rose on either hand. There were a j
number of large rocks scattered here
and there, one, of very convenient j
shape, being only some seveuty or
eighty yards from the carcass. Up
this 1 clambered. It hid me perfectly,
and on Its top was a carpet of soft
pine needles, on which I could lie at
my ease.
Hour after hour passed by. Every
sliglit noise made my pulses throb as
I lay motionless on the rock gazing
intently into the gathering gloom. I
began to fear that it would grow too
dark to shoot before the grisly came.
Suddenly and without warning. t!n
great bear stepped out of the Imslie
and trod actoss the pine needles with
such swift and silent footsteps that its
bulk seemed unreal. It was very can
tious, continually halting to peer'
around; and once it stood lip on its
hind logs and looked long down the
valley towards the red west. As i*
reached the carcass I put a bullet be
twecu its shoulders. It rolled over,
while the woods resounded with it
savage roaring. Immediately it strilg
gled to its feet and staggered off; ae i
fell again to the next shot, squalling
and yelling. Twice this was repeated:
the brute being one of those hears i
which greet every wound with a great j
outcry, and sometimes seem to lose
their feet when hit—although they
will occasionally fight as savagely a< t
their more silent brethren. In th ■ .
case the wounds were mortal, and tlx
bear died before reaching the edge <>!
the thicket.
I spent much of the fall of IS
hunting on tlie head-waters of t'ie ;
Salmon and Snake in Idaho and a!
the Montana boundary line from tl <
Big Hole Basin and the head of tix
Wisdom River to the neighborhood of
Red Rock Bass and to the north avi
west of Henry's Lake. During the la
fortnight my companion was the o! 1
mountain man. named Griffeth or J
Grillin I cannot tell which, as hewn ■
always called either "Hank" •>: i
"Griff." He was a crabbedly honest |
old fellow, and a very skilful hunter: j
but lie was worn out with age and
rheumatism, and his temper had failed j
even faster than his bodily strength. I
He showed me a greater variety of |
game than I had ever seen before in so j
short a time nor did I ever before or j
after make so successful a bunt. But
he was an exceedingly disagreeable
companion on account of liis surly,
moody ways. I generally had to g>t |
up first, to kindle the fire and make |
ready breakfast, and lie was very quar- I
relsome Finally, during my absence
from camp one day. while not very fat j
from Red Rock pass, he found my
whiskey-flask, which I kept purely foi
emergencies, and drank all the con-;
ten;.?
Win n 1 came back he was quite j
drill])* This was unbearable, and i
afte; some nigh words I left him, and |
struck iff homeward through the l
woods on my own account- We had
with us four pack and saddle horses;
and of these 1 took n very Intelligent
and gentle little bronco mare, which
possessed the Invaluable trait of al
ways staying near camp, even when
not hobbled. I was not hampered
with much of an outfit, having only
my buffalo sleeping-bag, a fur coat,
and my washing kit, with a couple of
spare pairs of socks and some hand
kerchiefs. I walked, while the little
mare followed almost like a dog, often
without my having hold the lariat i
which served as halter.
As dusk was coming on I halted and
camped in a little open spot by the
side of a small, noisy brook, with crys
tal water. I opened the pack, tossed
the bedding on a smooth spot, knee
haltered the little mare, dragged up a
few dry logs, and then strolled off.
rifle on shoulder, through the frosty
gloaming, to see if I could pick up a
grouse for supper.
As I was thinking of turning towards
camD. I stole UD to the crest of one of
the ridges. and looted oyer into
valley some sixty yards off Immedi
ately ! caught the loom of some large,
dark object: and another glance show
ed me a big grisly walking slowly otT
with his head down. lie was quarter
ing to me. and I fired into his flank,
the bullet, as I afterwards found,
ranging downward and piercing one
lung.
At the shot he uttered a loud,
moaning grunt and plunged forward sit
a heavy gallop, while I raced oblique
ly down the hill to cut him off. After
going a few hundred feet he reached
n laurel thicket, some thirty yards
I broad, and two or three times as long
[ which he did not leave. Iran up to
I the edge and there halted, not liking
to venture into the mass of twisted,
close-growing stems and glossy fo'i
age. Moreover, as 1 halted, 1 benrd
him utter a peculiar, savage kind of
whine from the heart of the brush
Accordingly. 1 began to skirt the edge.
| standing on tiptoe and gazing earnest
l ly to see if I could not catch a glimpse j
]of iiis hide. When 1 was at the nar-1
I rowest part of the thicket, he sud
j denly left it directly opposite, and then
| wheeled and stood broadside to me <>: i
! the hill-sUle. a little above. He turned
his head stiffly towards me: scarlet
! strings of froth hung from his lips:
i his eyes burned like embers in the
| gloom.
I held true, aiming behind the shoul
[ der, and my bullet shattered the point
| or lower end of his heart, taking out
I a big nick. Instantly the great bear
turned with a harsh roar of fury and
' challenge, blowing the bloody foam
' from his mouth, so that 1 saw the
! gleam of his white fangs: and then he
| charged straight at me, crashing and
bounding through the laurel bushes.
' so that it was hard to aim. I waited
until lie came to a fallen tree, raking \
him as he topped it with a ball, whi !i
! entered his chest and went through |
(he cavity of his body, but he neithei j
swerved .nor flinched, and at the mo i
ment I did not know that 1 had stnl •!; j
him. He came steadily on.and in j
I another second was almost upon me 1
, l fired for his forehead, but my bul- |
let went low. entering his open mouth, j
'
11c made n victual! «/</<• hUnc at tnc
smashing his lower jaw and going into
the neck. I leaped to oue side almost
as 1 pulled trigger; and through the
hanging smoke the first thing 1 saw
was his paw as he made a vicious side;
; blow at me The rush of his charte
i carried him past. As he struck he
lurched forward, leaving a pool ot
! bright blood where his muzzle hit the
, ground: hut he recovered himself ami
made two or three jumps onwards
while I hurriedly jammed a couple o'
cartridges into the magazine, mv ritV
holding only four, till of which I h-io
j fired Then he tried to pull up. but
as lie did so his mnvles seemed sttd
denl.v to give way. his head drooped,
and lie rolled over and over like a shot
rabbit, teach of my first three bullets
... 'cted a mortal wound
A Tardy Ac 4 of Justice.
Marriages between English uctrcssc.s
i anil men of u high social position be- ,
1 gall in tiic eighteenth century. If no
earlier. There was I.avlnln Feuton, I
the l'olly I'eaclium of (Jay's "Beggar's
i Opera," who became Iluchess of 80l- i
! ton; there was Miss Farren, who mar
; ried Lord i>erby; also Miss Hrunton '
! became Lady Craven not long before j
| Lord Thurlow married Miss Bolton.
Earliest of the list, though, comes the '
Earl of Peterborough, who married
Anastasia Robinson, the singer, and
kept the marriage secret until a few
days before his death in St. James'
palace, when he assembled his relatives j
i and friends and publicly acknowledged \
j the woman "to whom he owed the ;
best and happiest hours of his life," a
; tardy act of justice that caused the |
1 lady to swoon away.
How Ledgers Got Thsir Name.
j On the authority of the best lexl
| cographers "ledger" Is an adaptation I
| of a once common word. "Ilgger." sig
I tiifying any large book suited better '
! for lying on a desk than for carry in >.
about. Sometimes this was applied to [
a large account book, cartulary, or the ;
like, frequently a great breviary for :
use in church, as distinct from a "per j
tas," or small oue, carried by a "book
bosom priest." "Coueher" is another
old synonym for "ligger," the foregoer
of the now general "ledger."
Old Theory Confirmed.
Tommy, whose nose was out of joint, j
had been permitted to see the new I
baby In its bath.
"Where's his other leg?" he asked |
tying the infant with strong disfavor. 1
"It's doubled up under hina," e\ ;
plained the nurse.
"Yes!" he snorted. "Jes' like de J
blamed stork wb;.t brunt: Mm!"— Puck !
Probably Not.
"I hate to be poor. Now, a million
aire can walk right in and order what
he wants without bothering about the
price."
"He can," stated the weary sales
man, "but he seldom does."—Kansas
City Journal.
4 Cross i
4 "Purposes. 4
Y By CECILY ALLEN. Y
X Copyrighted. 1908, by Associated JL |
J Q Q Q Q !
Daniel Werner had decreed that his
daughters should tie mail haters. Mar
riage should represent to them slav
ery. To this end he selected for each
of his daughters a career which, in
the estimation of Mr. Werner, was the
Infallible antidote for romance.
To all of this his daughters openly
j subscribed—and inwardly rebelled. For
| Margaret, who had a commanding lig
| ure even at seventeen and a full, mel
j low voice, he selected the profession
!of the law. Had Margaret been al
| lowed to choose for herself, she would
! have studied sociology and gone down
into the slums to save the souls of lit
j tie children.
For Janet, who looked like his Uncle
j Ezra, a noted upstate physician, he
chose medicine. Janet crawled under
| the bed on Fourth of July and turned
| white and sick at the sight of blood,
but if there was anything in physical
resemblance she would outgrow these
foolish ideas and surely she was her
great Uncle Ezra in petticoats.
For Lucille, because of her dreamy
nature and studious air, lie chose
music. She looked the musician—and
therefore she could become one. He
did not know that her dreams were all
i woven around baby faces and the one
I music for which she would ever care
was a lullaby.
Having thus arrogated the privileges
| and responsibilities of fate, lie pro
j eeeded lo earn the money necessary to
j provide the careers—and Cupid sat
j back and laughed. This is the sort of
task that appeals to liau Cupid.
Margaret studied law by day and
I by night read Janet's medical books.
! Jus:t before she graduated she had a
I "call." Oddly enough, the same call
j reached one James Borden—and to
i gather they went as missionaries to the
| poor whites of the south, where Mar
i garet's medical knowledge, gained
j vicariously through Janet, proved ten
| times as valuable as her training in
the law, which had come high.
Janet graduated and obediently join
i ed her great-uncle Ezra, for her futhcr
! decreed thai she should step into the
: family practice. In a short time Great
uncle Ezra wrote that Janet's pies were
I the only ones that could touch the
standard set by his dear mother, and
he was glad lo say that young Bernard
ft-x
1 "Xtt
A ft 1
Y
"I AM GOING TO HIM AND TF.LI. IIIM THAT
I LOVE II1M."
' Kelly, the newly elected member of
congress from the Steenth district, rec
ognized a good pie and a pretty girl
when ho saw them
For all ibis treason of her sisters did
Lucille pay dearly She was sent to
the severest professors, who snapped
her knuckles and pin. hed her tired
arms when her interest in music
flagged.
These professors all agreed that she
had the musical temperament, the
soul, but she lacked technique. They
did not appreciate that it was simply
the womanly soul of the girl seeking
! expression in chords and runs.
Patiently she made the rounds of
! studios, concerts, lectures and recitals.
Obediently she read the masses of
1 musical literature which her father
provided for her delectation and ad
vancement.
But when Harry Wall happened to
| meet her on the avenue—and this hap
pened more and more frequently as the
season advanced—she smiled and for
got the miseries of acquiring a career.
Harry Wall was nothing if not sin
j cere, and in time he refused to confine
i himself to chance meetings on the ave
j nue. lie demanded the right to call
: upon Lucille under her father's roof
and was repulsed by the supreme mak
! er cf careers.
Lucille went to Europe to finish her
studies. She sailed on the first boat
scheduled for Hamburg after young
Wall's interview with her father. And
I she carried to Germany not the mem
; ory of a father's blessing, but the recol
lection of a paternal frown.
Oof mother went with her and set
-1 tied her with a dependable "frail" In
, an Immaculately kept home under the
; shadow of the professor's roof. The
; professor ranked first In the musical
world as a maker of piano virtuosos.
And the world which had known
j Lucille Werner, the world which had
held struggling American musicians,
fretful American teachers and callous
I American critics, thought of her only
] as a pawn on the artistic chessboard,
j which the R-ivnt professor In the ob
scure German town was moving at hi.
; win.
But all the while another great chess
player, Dan Cupid, was pitting his
skill against that of the maker of vir
tuosos. For Lucille Werner was not
the sort of girl who forgets. In her
one letter to Harry Wall from Ger
many she wrote:
"You must never write to me again.
So long as my father is paying for my
education and supporting me, I shall
obey him. i will become a great mu
sician. By my artistic success I will
repay him for all the money he has
anent on me and the disappointment
he has suffered through my Sisters.
But when 1 am my own mistress,
when I am a great player, 1 shall
marry you. You will be my manager.
I will have the career to please my
father and a husband to please my
self. If you do not hear from me do
not fret I will be simply waiting."
Over in the obscure little German |
town Lucille was regarded as a |
prodigy. Never had the great profess
or seen such a capacity for work. He
sent glowing reports to tlie maker of
careers, who showed the letters to his
wife and remarked willi swelling
chest that they had one daughter who
took after her father.
"I knew a career and such opportuni
ties as I am giving her would knock
young Wall's asinine romance into a
cocked hat."
. And what of young Wall?
He was making some talk in ills
own world too. The great electrical
trust for which he was working out
inventions and improvements realized
that it had fouud a prize worth holil
iug.
Here was a man who would work
eighteen or nineteen hours a day for
their interests. H« must not slip into
the clutches of any rival concern.
For, you see, it was only Dan Cupid
who knew that every time Harry Wall
scored a fresh triumph, every time his
employers advanced him in position
and salary, he would set his lips a
trifle more firmly and mutter un
der his sharply drawn breath: "And
she thought I'd be the managerial hus
band of a musical star. I'll show that
father of hers!"
Margaret had just pulled her mis
sionary husband through a dangerous
attack of mountain fever, and Janet
had just given a most brilliant dinner
at her husband's Washington home,
when the maker of careers received his
third and most conclusive jolt. It
came in the form of an anonymous
letter, mailed in the obscure town
where Lucille was performing such
prodigies of labor.
"I presume you understand that to
marry a German officer your daughter
must have a dot of at least ?20,00ii
I write this in the most friendly spirit.
It is well she should not build air cas
tles—as American girls will."
Mr. Werner cabled to Lucille with
out wasting time on investigation:
"Return by S. S. Franz Gustave.
Passage prepaid."
She sat with hands folded, facing
the maker of careers.
When he had finished speaking she
arose, and the woman who stood be
fore him was a new Lucille.
"Now 1 have something to say. 1
meant to be a great artist to please
you, to repay you, but you by your in
sane distrust have ruined my career.
Six months more and I would have
lieen ready to face the critics. Si*
months more and your dream would
have been realized, but you have
shamed me before my master By
uow his little world knows it all. and 1
refuse togo back. I never saw Lieu
tenant Heuscr but twice. What lie
may have said in the drawing room
of the American consul was no fault
of mine—and on such a rumor you
built your mountain of distrust. I did
not love, I did not even admire the
lieutenant—because I did love. I do
love, some one else, and now—because
by your own hand, by saying that you
will never raiae your linger again for
this ungrateful daughter—you have
cast me off without a hearing. 1 am
going to him and tell him that 1 love
him."
And. leaviug the maker of careers
filled with the humiliation, of self
wrought defeat, she went to her room
and wrote to Harry Wall:
"Come. The door of my father's
house Is open to you. My career is
ended. I ask only to share yours!"
High Finance.
The excursion train was crowded,
and the man In the center of the car
knew it would be impossible to get out
through the jam to get something to
eat without losing his seat and per
haps missing the train. He looked
longingly ;u the restaurant across the
tracks and. seeing an urchin silting on
the iron pipe near by, he called him
over, saying: "Here. son. take this
quarter and run over to that restau
rant and get me a sandwich. And
get yourself one." he called after the
hoy.
"You are crazy," said the excursion
ist beside the man. "You'll never see
that kid or your quarter again."
And as the train whistled at the mo
ment he feared it would be true. Just
then, however, the boy came out of the
restaurant with a large fat sandwich
In his hand. The train was moving as
he handed up the change and then,
taking n huge mouthful of the sand
wich. he called to the departing man
with the hunger:
"They only had one left. Thanks!"
Every Day May Bo a Sunday.
Sunday and Day are the names of
two farmers near Martinton. Sunday
has five sons and Day five daughters.
Three of the Sunday boys have already
married Day girls. With the other
two brothers courting the remaining
sisters it looks as though every Day
would lie a Sunday by and by.—Moroc
co Cor. I ndianapolls Journal.
Little Christmas Folks.
They're thinkln' bout the Christmas
time.
Tin horns on the blow
An' they keep the oP folks dreamln'
Of days of lonß ago.
But the children ure the flowers
We're reapln' In life's snow
They're thtnkln' bout the Christmas
tltne.
The days, they pass so slow!
Hut they're flytn' from the ol' folks
Who come from lonff ago.
But the children are the flowers
Age Is reapln' In life's snow.
-F. 1.. Stanton In Atlanta Constitution.
Forgetful.
An eminent painter was once asked
if he thought art students did well to
goto Europe to study, lie said that
undoubtedly the atmosphere was more
artistic in Europe than anywhere else,
but that I'arls as a city to study and
work In was overrated.
To illustrate his meaning he said that
a certain rich man's son after three
years In Paris wrote home to his fa
ther:
"Dear Father—l have made up my
mind to set to work. Please let me
know at your earliest convenience
whether it was painting, architecture
or music I came to Paris to study."
• ■
Saving Jimmie, j
\ By LULU JOHNSON. I
\ Copyrighted, 390**. by Associated \
"Paste her on the trademark, Skin
ny," urged the captain of the team.
And Skinny, otherwise Master James
Tread gear, being ever mindful of ad
vice, "pasted" the sphere with sucli
good effect that the ball sailed over
the stone wall at the far end of the
lot.
This changed jubilation into regret,
for not even three scores brought iu
by tlie home run offset the fact that
Skinny had knocked a fifty cent ball
over the wall into the colonel's garden, i
Hilly Sniff en, who had been cajoled
Into lending his new ball to the "big
fellows," some of whom were all of
twelve years of age, let out a roar at I
the sudden dlsapjiearance of his prop
erty.
Halls that went over the high stone
barrier which surrounded the property
of the peppery Colonel Moulton were
regarded as good as lost. None of the
boys dared brave the wrath of the re
tired officer iu search of lost property.
Colonel Moulton would have been re
garded tis an ogre by mediaeval youth,
for he stormed and raved at children.
The smaller lads firmly believed that
he liked to kill children, and when
dusk had fallen they hurried past his
house lest he spring out and seize
them.
Now. at tlie disappearance of the
ball, the outfielders followed the base
runners up to the home plate and
joined In the volley of reproach direct
ed toward the unfortunate Skinny.
"You told me to paste tier," he re
minded the scowling captain.
"I didn't tell you to knock her over
the wall," was the scornful retort.
"I'oor Billy's ina'll lick him when lie
goes home without that ball."
This was an angle from \\ hich the
unfortunate William had not hitherto
viewed bis loss, and it caused his grief
to double.
"You better skip over the fence and
gel it," decreed the captain, anil the
gang shuddered.
Like a true despot, the captain could
not be induced to alter his command,
and, though lie weakened perceptibly
as they drew near the fatal wall, he af
fected a nonchalance he did not feel.
7r|~
z' -
"I HAH NOTHINU TO !><> WITH IT," I>B
CLAI; 1 I> 1 HI; COLONEL,.
ami. bending over, he formed his hands
into a stirrup, in which the trembling
Skinny placed his foot.
With a heave the boy shot up until
his lingers grasped the wall, but lie
could not hold aud came tumbling
back, carrying the captain to the
ground with him.
"I can't do it," pleaded Skiutiy. but
the captain was adamant.
"You goiter." he insisted, made
heartless by a skinned elbow. "(Set tip
there or we'll throw you over."
The threat had its due effect. SUiu
ny clung shivering to the top of tlie
wall for a moment: then he tumbled
over on THE oilier side, and 111 a mo
ment the ai:' WHS pierced by shrieks of
agony so shrill and terrifying that the
gang fled incontinently toward the
street, with the doughty captain well
in the lead.
As they reached the sidewalk and
turned to reconnoiter Skinny's sister
I.ucy came down the street and pause 1
to regard the boys inquiringly.
"Where is Jimmie?" she demanded
of the captain.
The captain hung his head.
"That's him," he confessed, wit It a
jerk of his thumb in the direction of
the spot whence Jlmmie's screams still
proceeded.
"We boosted Jiimuie over the wall to
get a ball he lost, and I guess the colo
nel's killing him."
The entrance to the stone encircled
park of the Moulton place was oil the
other street, and with the gang trail
ing after her I.ucy ran toward the gate.
The boys were there before her. but
made way that she might approach the
dreaded portal. Every one of her at
tendants admired the courage and de-1
termination with which she pressed tii"
button of the electric bell.
Her linger was still on the porcelain
knob wnen tne gate was llir<»w it *»|»ru j
and a young man, hatless and without
his coat, appeared in the aperture. lie
sorted bark as ho perceived the excit
ed group.
"lias any one gone for a doctor?" he
cried.
"Js a physician needed?" asked I.ucy,
with sinking heart. It wns worse thar
she hail feared. The savage old colonel
must have carried his punishment for
trespass to an excess that had resulted
in Berious Injury.
"Some of you boys run for a doctor,
quick." commanded the young man
sharply. "The little fellow has a
broken leg."
The entire gang raced up the street
after the physician, and Lucy was left
ulune with the stranger.
"May I come in':" she demanded
coldly. "It is my brother whom you
have injured."
"You will be most welcome," was
the courteous reply. "My father's
household does not Include any wo
ni»n n--.il i was a loss to
inaKe nun comiortanie. i am i.it*ut*?u
ant Paul Moulton," he added by way
of Introduction. "My father is Colonel
Moulton, aud I am visaing him on
leave."
"I am I.ucy Treadgear," announced
Lucy in response. "It is my brother.
James, whom you have Injured."
Moulton stepped aside to permit her
to enter, and after closing the gate
| he led the way into the house, where
Jtmmlc lay on n sofa in the library
with the white haired old soldier lean
ing over him and trying to soothe his
fear.
"lie seems to be more frightened
than hurt." explained the colonel as he
gav» place to I.ucy. "and a broken leg
•s no-joke at that."
"No wonder." was the indignant re
sponse. "when it is known that yon
have shot at several boys. It is for
tunate that you did no more than
break his leg—fortunate- for you, I
mean." she added In explanation.
1 "Bless your pretty faee, I had noth-
I ing to do with It," declared the colonel.
"As for the shooting, a few blank ear
j t ridges and my consequent bad reputa
j tion- have been the salvation of my
j fruit trees. This little fellow will teil
| you himself that neither Paul nor I
j was In the garden when he fell and
j broke his leg."
Lucy looked inquiringly at Jiminie,
who nodded.
"The boys pushed me up too fast,"
he explained. "I went right on over.
And I didn't get the ball," he added in
consequentially, "and Billy's ma'll lick
him for losing it, and Don Fraser said
] he'd lick me if I didn't get it."
I "I'll find it," volunteered the lieuten
! ant, and he slipped out, leaving Lucy
| with the colonel.
"My bark is worse than my bite,"
! explained the old colonel, with red
dening face. "I had to do something
| to keep the boys from overrunning
; my garden, but I did not suppose that
j the grownups would take my threats
j seriously. I shall have to make Paul
tn.v deputy to clear my reputation."
j The arrival of the physician inter
| rupted the conversation, and present
ly the colonel himself tenderly carried
the boy to the waiting carriage and
insisted that Paul ride on the box
with the driver in ease he might be
needed.
It was perhaps only natural that
Paul should call frequently to ask
after the Invalid and that lie should
select Lucy as his first proselyte ill his
missionary work in behalf of his father.
"Forty years in a garrison would
ruin tlie temper of any man."he de
clared. "and you cannot very well
blame dad for wanting to be let alone
when he had the chance. lie loves
gardening, and the boys were wreck
ing his grounds. He simply had to
scare thetn off."
"He was very effective in his meth
ods," agreed Lucy, "almost too much
so. For a moment I supposed that h«
really had broken Jlmmie's leg."
"I wish that I could make you re
alize what a splendid father he is,"
I said PHIII. with enthusiasm.
| "I do not remember my father very
I well," said Lucy rennrisvently. "fie
died just after Jimmie was born. I
I was only eight."
! "Let me share mine with you," of
| feted Paul generously. "Will you,
dear?"
• •*••••
I From a coign of vantage on the far
j side of the street the gang watched
the wedding procession emerge from
the church and set up a shout as Jim
inie. resplendent in white satin coat
aud knickerbockers, preceded the hap
py couple as their page.
"Jimmie looks like a stick of can
dy," declared the captain contemptu
ously. "but he's got an all right sis
ter. There ain't many girls thatwoul(V
marry a man just to save their little
brother from a man like Colonel Moul
ton. He was just goin' to kill Jimmie
when she rushed in and said if he
would spare Jlmmie's life she would
marry the lieutenant."
The gang looked with awe upon the
brave bride, and Lucy, radiant in her
new happiness, never realized that
they were cheering her with sucli en
thusiasm because she had sacrificed
herself to fate to save her little
brother.
Garibaldi's Simplicity of Character.
An instance of Garibaldi's modesty
and simplicity of character is afforded
by the following letter, written to his
wife at Caprera the day after the bat
tle of Plgion:
Dear Francesca—Yesterday the Italian
volunteers fought the whole (lav airalnst
the Prussians, the best soldiers In
world, and won. The weather here la
very cold, and It Is snowing. 1 dare say
It will be the same In the Mediterranean.
Take care of the cows and see that th«
calves do not puffer from the cold. Tell
Pietro to so« the beans at the Tole and
tell the children. Clella and Manlio, that
when I pursed Marseilles I saw somo
beautiful toys, which on my return I
shall set for them
Unlucky For His Side.
"So you cling to that childish super
stition about thirteen being unlucky,"
said tlie traveler.
"Yes," answered the other. "Can't
get away from it."
"But see how completely It Is dis
proved. This glorious country started
with thirteen colonies."
"Very true. But 1 am an English
m-iti " Wn«!iliv:i"n Star
■RDI FEW!
A riellatolo
TO SHOP
Tor all kind of Tin Roofing,
Spoutlne nnd Conors)
Job Work.
Stovoo, Hooters, Ran«oa k
Furnaces, eto.
PRICES THE LOWEST!
QUALITY TEE BEST!
JOHN IIIXSON
NO. IV £. FRONT IT.