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TO TO TO TO TO TO TO TO TO TO TO I WHEN SHORT] \ RAN i 3 ? ^ Dogged Heroism c * :::How it Won Hij TO TO TO TO TO TO TO TO TO TO TO "Shorty" rode down from the east- > ern hills and out upon the red desert h amid the glare and shimmer and blaz- o ing rocks. Ahead of him stretched the v San Anita plains, quivering in the t heat-waves. On the very edge of the horizon, seemingly at the end of the t; world, rose the Hermosillo mountains, o a blur of purple in the distance. "Shorty" sat his pony with the ease s< and grace that come from spending T nine months of every year in the sad- o die. One hand rested on his hip; his body swayed with the lope of the pony. 1 He wore the fringed "chaps" of the s; cowpuncher, and a red neckerchief was fi knotted about his throat. Ij "Come, Pete," he said to the horse, w "I reckln' we've got some more travel- s] in' to do today. It's 50 miles to them tl thar hills." He swore lazily, affectionately, and slapped the pony's flank b with a firm, gentle hand. "You old si son-of-a-gun, I'm expectin' yuh to dig T up the dust gittin' to Maricopa. I'm tl runnin' fer" sheriff, Pete. What d'ye s< think of thet? You've got to git into Maricopa tonight. Me a sheriff! Ha, ha, ha!" ? A quick shadow crossed the rider's tl trail. Gazing heavenward, he espied t* the form of a buzzard skimming along ^ on motionless wings. Idly he watched sj its course. Its wings quavered, drop- ei ped a trifle, and finally circled down- ^ ward more slowly until it settled in an arroyo some yards to the left. ty And then, as quick as the buzzard, a st coyote leaped across the trail, so close ^ that the pony threw up its head. ... it alon of fVlCk fTllll V "f snony sau it oiuj; 0 where the buzzard had disappeared and w crouch forward to the edge. Then it whirled in a startled flash of yellow- h< gray hair and loped silently away d< across the desert, until it was lost im- J"1 16 perceptibly among the sage-brush. jt"Say, Pete, I reckon thar must be m somepin' worth lookin' at over in thet hollow," said "Shorty." He wheeled about and rode to the h< edge of the arroyo. At the bottom "f crouched a figure garbed in white?a figure, to "Shorty," almost fairy-like in appearance. It sat up and looked er at him out of frightened eyes. He leaped from the saddle to the n ground and clambered down into the se ravine. The buzzard arose from an in adjacent rock and soared away on silent pinions. or The child tried to run in a weak, tot- re tering way, but fell at the first step. H "Shorty" grabbed her up and held her in. careful arms. te "Why, you lost maverick, whar did m yuh come from?" he asked, tenderly. J^1 He wiped the dirty face with his ^ large red handkerchief. The small, 1--J J ..r>i f n grimy nancis were nruisea, anu uhuity" knew that the child had been crawling on the rough sand. "Pears ez though yuh been lost M since vest'dav,"," said the son of the h* CO plains. Let's git out of this, eh?" ta He scrambled up the arroyo with the child on one arm and walked to- award the pony. His hands were to stretched out for the bridle when the cj. animal reared, snorting loudly. fe "Pete," said the cowboy, "yuh ain't a-goin' to git skeered at a fairy like ^ this, air yuh?" X< He tried to seize the bridle. The horse threw up its head, trotted back ^ to the trail, and stopped till the pursuing cowpuncher was ten feet away, a then swung about and cantered off to th the eastward. "Shorty" swore at him. "I must be locoed, fergittin' to drop re) t thet bridle off yer mule head. 1 ut A might've expected it of yuh?shy in* at a lost maverick like this. I'm plumb ashamed of yuh!" un He regarded the child with curious he eyes. He noticed that the baby lips lawere drawn, the temples hot and fever- crj ish. He took a bottle from his pocket, pr forced a few drops into the dry mouth ^h and sat down on the sand, with the child in his arms. The air grew perceptibly hotter, tic Overhead the sun beat down with all . to the noonday fury "Shorty" knew so SOl well, and the heatwaves shimmered of aoove xne greasewoou am- Miumru ?a- --- huaros. 2e, "Shorty" watched the color come tal into the child's face; he had forgotten it the desert. "Say, kid," he said, gently. "it's goin' to be mighty hot today. Let's be bu hittin' the trail." He stood up, look- c' ch ing over the red plain. To the north there was a hill country. Behind him co were the hills he had left in the morn- ho ing; to the west there was hill country , backed by sandhills; to the south hills to1 again?a lofty mountain range. The fla whole formed an irregular semicircle 0\ that encompassed a broad, arid area with a ragged horizon. "I'm mighty sa] sorry, little maverick, I can't go back; ba no, I jes' can't. I got to be at Mart- cn copa tomorrow. I said I'd come, an' fa( I reckin I ain't a-goin' to let Gifford wi scare me out.' of The child looked at him gravely out . SCI of steady, unwinking eyes. "Shorty" ri<j gulped a mouthful of brandy and went forward. vo( Higher rose the sun. As the cowboy plodded on, the ranges of buttes visi- fig bly changed form: the monstrous, su; snaky, sea-like growths of the cactus J?' clutched at his legs; mock lakes spark led and dissolved in the middle dis- wi tances; the sun continued to beat hot and merciless, while the powdered dry alkali beat hot and mercilessly back, dr The child dozed in his arms, waking co up at short intervals with low cries of fear, then dropping back into uneasy jj, slumber. do At noon they stopped under the be scant shade of a thorn cactus; then ^ they plodded on again. The afternoon co, sun seemed to grow stronger; the we roekv buttes, having already absorbed He their full capacity of heat, flung the surplus back in the faces of the wan- shi derers in great stiflng gusts. The earth rocked and reeled about them: * the sun rode low in a sky of brass; g-0 the hills danced in ever-changing combinations of color-scheme and as' contour; but bv night the eastern hills ()|. were far distant, and "Shorty" ealcu- an lated he had walked about miles, rot The child slept heavily in his arms as he lay down under the greasewood (ra to sleep. The moon had ris?-n already far and was floating slowly northward, ',a> but at no great elevation. The night wind came pouring out ' of the desert in long, heaving breaths, tin bringing an aromatic odor, freed from ( ' all the heavy heat of the day. an( Night reigned torrid still. The co- gei I Y4 * V* V* *4 V* Y4 Til I FOR SHERIFF. ] Z M >f a Cowboy and " m the Election::: i I T4 T4 T4 T4 T4 T4 V* T4 T4 T4 otes gave voice to their unearthly towls, more hideous than the wails >f souls in purgatory, and the somber vorld apart from them seemed full of he ominous silence. In the night "Shorty" awoke?thirsy. The moonlight fell upon the face >f the child. Poor little maverick, he said, oftly, "yuh must be nigh tired out." 'hen he fell asleep again, in spite f his thirst, for he was very tired. At dawn the cowboy started again, 'he child was awake now, but it never poke, only stared at him out of red, rightened eyes. His own felt stranger blurred, and his limbs were hot ith pangs, for the western cowboy pends the better half of his life in le saddle. The spire-like peak of a distant utte caught the first rays of the un; it glowed like a fiery needle, hen, with a bound, the sun cleared te hilltops and soared aloft. And ) it became day. The child panted in "Shorty's" rms, and his own brain swam in the erce air. Several hours later he ad to stop under a cactus to ease te pain in his shoulders. He stayed tere all the afternoon, now and then iving the precious brandy to the lild, drop by drop. When the ladows slanted in long rows to the ist he started forward again, lookig steadily at the blue foothills of the ermosillos. The child seemed weaker, so "Shorthought; and then an odd feeling ruck him that the baby understood rerythlng he said, and was reproachg him. "It's like this." "Shorty" explained, rhere's a gent over at Maricopa hat says I can't be sheriff. He's a ean cuss, little maverick, an' I savs * him, 'I'll be thar at the election, jofs, an' horns,' and he says, 'If yuh > I'll shoot yuh.' I said 'I'll be thar,' 1' I will. It sure was hard luck r Pete to run away like that. But s only twenty miles now, little averick." Night came and day dawned once ore. Up over the eastern hills rang the sun. shining hotter and Jtter on the San Anita plain, shorty" gave the last of the brandy the child and smiled as he did so, lough his own mouth was harsh and y. He went on over the arid dest. The dry sand slipped under his et. The child in his arms panted hoarse, short sobs. "Shorty" dared not stop. He could e the distant Hermosillos, blue and viting in the west, with cool, dark myons and green valleys. His roat felt caked and his lips split en. The trail blurred before him; d dust tilled his eyes and lungs, is arms and back ached with inferable surges of pain from the eight of the child, but he set his eth and kept his eyes on the Herosillos. Somewhere at the foot of ose buttes lay the gray walls of aricopa. and at the thought of this > set his teeth afresh. "Little maverick," he panted, "I got do it! I told Gifford I'd be thar. iday's the big day, an' they'll ex (Ct me." Then he went forward toward aricopa and the man who would < 11 him on sight. He felt a strange mpanlonshlp with the child?In- 1 ngible, yet real. "Little maverick." he called, "I'm 1 goin' to keep?keep goin' till I git Maricopa." He laid the child gently under a : laparral bush, then stumbled and 11 beside it. Half an hour before he had been ken by a chill, every tremor of hich added to his exquisite torture. >w he was aflame with fever. He looked across the grim desert? wn the faint white line of the trail back over the route he had come. i saw not one living thing, not even skulking coyote. He looked up at e burnished sky and saw a dark me providential dispensation a sual prowler might be in that diction and hear him. But the mines dwindled through their intertable lengths and the cries of the : in awakened no response. He wonred how long sensation could last ider such conditions, and whether could complete the few miles that i between him and Maricopa. I He lifted his arms to the sky and : ied aloud. He swore, but there was , ayer in the despairing tones. The ild panted heavily; its eyes, un- ! nking as ever, were haunted with ' fer. , "Shorty" looked wildly in the direc>n of the cool Hermosillos. "Little maverick." he said, "I got ' leave yuh, but I'll come back right i on. Ther ain't no other way out it. You be mighty brave. I?I'm grh tuckered out." ' He covered the face of the motion- i >s child with his sombrero, and, < king out his red handkerchief, tied to the chaparral bush. "Good-by," he called. "I'll sure be ck right soon." Then he started ivard Maricopa, ten miles across the rning sands; and the buzzard cirtd lower and lower above the aparral. The election for sheriff of Maricopa unty was being held in the schooluse, which stood upon the top of a v butte in the town's center. The buildings on either side of the ivn's principal thoroughfare were t-roofed and coated with plaster, er the sidewalks extended wooden nings, beneath which very wide ors opened into the coolness of loons. Each of these places ran a r; also games of roulette, faro, ips and stud poker. Outside the schoolhouse a darkled man sat heavily upon his pony, th a Winchester across the pommel his Mexican saddle. A cow puncher came out of the toolhouse and lounged toward the ler. "Doc," he said, "better come in an' te." The man on the horse swore. He was a loner-limbed, well-knit ure of a man. impressive with its ingestion of intense, well-conserved. ' ent force. His eyes were gray and i en and clear?the eyes of a man c 10 has accustomed himself to the , de. free skies of the open spaces. "I'm a-goin' to stay here till these ' lis close." he replied. "Thar ain't ( gent 'tween here an' the Divide kin , ive me off. How's th' 'lection min* ?' "Thar's a lot waitin' to see if ' iorty' '11 come before they vote. ] 1 told 'em he'd be here afore sun- , wn. If he aint, wall, he'll never sheriff, believe me. They won't ' te for no coward. I'll gamble on 1 it. Wall, it ain't long now," he | ueluded. looking judiciously at the ( stern sun. The man on the horse spoke ! rcely. i "I'll kill 'im if he does come. I'll ( ow 'im thar ain't a-goin' to be no de sheriff in this yere community. * urt-n ui>in ifi mi siiivc ??c uioi. uek into the cow country. an* he's . t to let th' law alone." "Are yuh goin' home tonight. Bill?" 1 ked the other. "Ten-to-one shot I will. Told the t lady I'd be home yesterday. She ' the kid were all alone. The kid le part way down th' trail with' t He spoke as if ashamed, 'hen I put her down she ran up th' II mighty lively. Then the man's e hardened again. "I've been 1 in' aroun' these parts waiting to ish with 'Shorty' an' this 'lection I mess." 'It ain't long till sundown now," c other said. )ut on the trail a figure came in- d view. As they watched, it reeled r 1 fell, then rose again and staged on. ! t "Some gent full of liquor, I reel Gilford remarked. They watched It indifferently, man fell again, got up on his h and knees, and crawled along the trail. They could see his uptu face. "Gilford, It's 'Shorty'!" said the er. He started forward. With an the man on horse raised his rifle. "Drop it!" snapped the o "You let him come?If he kin " ."Shorty" got to his feet again came unsteadily forward, fell, once more began crawling or knees. He bit his lip until the t spurted forth, but he did not feel pain. His parched throat was a limekiln. His tongue was t and swollen. His sombrero was t and the setting sun glowed i upon his face as he came to man on the horse. Gifford cocked his rifle, levellli steadily at the distorted face b him. "Shorty" tried to speak, but words came slow and uncertainly if from long disuse. "Little maverick." he said, "ou ?desert. Found *er. Pete? plumb locoed?scared?rattle sr Tried to make it?out thar?in land of?dead things." "You hound!" said Gifford; rll/1 vaii finH "Eaby?girl?maverick," came 1 the cowboy's black lips. "Fbunc down?down in Taylor's Canyon, tie girl?yellow curls?white clotl He raised his arm and swept it to east. "Gilford. can't you go? ? dyin' out thar." "Whar did yuh fin' her?"?Gil was beside him now and fo whl3ky between his lips?" 'Sho it must be Kate?an' she never i home!" "Shorty" wandered in deliriui "Little maverick," he murmu "I'll be back soon. I won't be 1 I'll sure be back." The wh brought him from his stupor. ' wagon!" he whispered, with a gl of Intelligence. "I'll go back to h The two men carried him to wagon and laid him on the floor. Gilford lashed the ponies forw Men came rushing out of the sch house. To them was shouted t the news that Gilford's "kid" was ing somewhere out on the des "Shorty" was dying, and he was only one who could find the gii As for "Shorty" he felt the rusl the wagon dimly. He heard Gifi raging at the horses, but he see: very far away. Somewhere there a little girl lying under a chapai with a red handkerchief to point "CVtArttr'e" fVirnof n'fio hnri up. his head throbbed Intolerably, he knew he must not faint, wheels ground out the same pul: refrain. "A red?a red?a red." his brain mocked him with the 1 tastic images of a thousand red t ners floating above the sent cacti. He raised himself on his arm pointed to the right. "Across?across!" he cried. ' red bandanna. As they drove up to the bush a 1 zard floated away and circled at their heads. The foremost men from Marlc< running down the trail, met the turning buckboard, with Gifl driving the galloping horses, men called to him, "Is th' kid dea is she dead?" The schoolhouse came in si with all Maricopa before it. ' man who was with Gifford stood on the seat. "They're alive!" he shouted, the men around him cheered voci ously. Gifford laughed brokenly when t told him the child would live. T trickled cold water into "Short; mouth, and dashed pailful after p ful over his quivering body. "He lifted his head and looked the child. "TAttle maverick, can't yuh sp to me?" he asked, anxiously. Gifford came over holding out hand. "Shorty." he said, with misty e; "they say you're sheriff rl enough." The cowboy took Gilford's hand i they shook heartily. "An' now. Gifford," he stammei embarrassed, "can't yuh stop t foolish noise out thar? I ain't rnjun massacre!"?World Wide Ma zine. A CIRCUIT RIDER'S ESTATE Major Part of It Invested In "Heav< Securities," Says His Wife. Mrs. Cora Harris, author of Circuit Rider's Wife" has filed v W. F. Hunt, clerk of the county co an inventory of her late husbai estate that is probably unique in ct records, says a Nashville dispa Her husband, the Rev. Lundy H. H ris, who was commonly supposed tc the real "Circuit Rider" of the st killed himself by taking morphine Pine Liodge, near Cartersville, Ga., September 18. The county court cl asked for an inventory of his est and Mrs. Harris has written a le statins that the major part of it 1 'invested in Heavenly securities, ealues of which have been varioi declared in this world and highly ta by the various churches, but ne realized." She writes to Mr. Hunt: "I find it impossible to give yoi complete and satisfactory inventor) the estate of Lundy Harris. The p that I give is so small that it is ins nlfieant and misleading. At the t >f his death he had $2.35 in his put 5116 in the Union Bank and Tr ompany, of this city (Nashville.) ah four hundred books and the coffin ivhich he was buried, which cost ab 585. "The major part of this estate was rested in Heavenly securities, the v jes of which have been variously lared in this world, and highly ta: >y the various churches, but ne ealized. He invested every year ess (usually more) that $1,200 in ch ty, so secretly, so inoffensively and lAnnoth- ft Via* V-i O wnc llPVPP Qlicmpp >f being a philanthropist, and ne iraised for hia generosity. He pi iioned an outcast woman in B on county and an old soldier in Na: rille. He sent two liitle negro boys ichool and supported for three ye i family of five who could not si ?ort themselves. "He contributed anonymously to >ry charity in Nashville; every old n nterested in a 'benevolent object' eived his aid; every child he knew icted and received penny tolls from enderness. He supported the heart ?very man who confided in him w ncouragement and affection. He rally did forgive his enemies, ana s fered martyrdom on September 1910, after enduring three years of p secution without complaint. He \ ?ver recognized as one of the larg bondholders in Heaven. You can low large his estate was and how di ult it would he to compute its va so as to furnish you the inventory ; require for record on your book! Charleston News and Courier. A Speaking Likeness.?Coroner?^ CJiew the deceased pretty well, ! 1 ieve, and could identify him? Witness?Yes, I should know tgain. A photograph of the deceased v hen handed to the witness. Coroner?Do you recognize that Witness (shaking his head)?Nr lunno who that is. Coroner?You said you would kn lim again if you saw him. Witness?So 1 should, sir. Bu lon't think I could tell 'is picture. Coroner?What was there about I leceased that you would know a ecognize again? Witness (brightening up)?His sti er, sir. 'K stuttered awful!?Judy. :on JHiscfUancous grading. The ^ _ ~ _ * ands r-~ ! red "SHOVING THE QUEER" NOT EAS rned oth- Government Makes Counterfeiter Task a Dangerous One. oat*1 Just about four weeks ago?on Fr ther. December 2. to be exact?th daily papers of the country came 01 and l"e news l^at a Kang of n'n ( jjjs men had been arrested as counter lood feiters by the United States Seen I the Service right In this city. They wer (lack f"^arpef' with passing pieces of papt jone, which looked so much like ordinar reuiy UIII^ nirti uiru iiianci o annual the aWay with what they produced. Si days later, on Thursday, the 8th, cam elow the news of another counterfeitin t the arrest here in the city?this time c as an Italian stoker who had some nlc t on $5 bills which the national govern Pete ment never issued. Four days late lake, again, only on Monday of this week there were published the facts abou ,vhat a Sabbath day raid on an unauthorize mint just across the East Rivet 'rom Where two ingenious persons wer al'e&ed to be turning out $5 and $1 tes." ??ld pieces worth respectively J a an< i the $6. 'he's Three batches of money-makers ar Tord restefl within ten short days, and al reed inside the city limits of the very town rty,' may set some of us wondering a lit *rent tie about the profusion of counter n. felting. What are its methods? Hov ired, does it pay? How are bad bills an< ong. batj coins discoverable? How likel; lSKV "Th* are we ourse'ves to have bogus mone; earn passed on us and how can we de ler." termine that it is bogus?or can w< t*ie at all? The answers to these ques ard. tions are rather Interesting, ool- The exact chance of any one persoi >acK being afflicted with a bad piece o I IV3ert money ,s naturally pretty hard to de the termine. for the simple reason that n< "1. one, not even the secret service rord knows any one t'me Just how mucl me(j counterfeit cui ency is In circulation was But from years of experience th< rral. government agents at Washingtor her 1jn_ have been able to work out certair but general figures. Along about six oi The seven years ago, and general condising tions have not changed much dnce and Chief John E. Wilkie, of the secrel fan- service, figured out roughly that ir >an- paper money the proportion of bad inel to good was about $1 to $100,000, and in coin somewhere between $2 and $J and to $100,000. At first glance thai doesn't seem to be very much, and il 'Th isn't?until we try to realize how many hundreds of thousands of dol>uz iars there are in circulation. Ther iove it begins to loom large. To get any fair idea of what the spa, counterfeiting proposition is we have (re" first got to know something about the ^oj"d business itself from the counterfeitThe er>s point of view. The making ol a bad money is indulged in all over the country, and to a certain extent ght, even outside the country, particularThe ly in Italy, where they do a good deal UP of imitation engraving. But the bulk of it is done right here in the United and states. fer- Thg Gf money a man makes depends mostly on what part of the ?ey country he lives in. Here in the east, ,?X where the paper circulation is greaty.? est, bank notes are chiefly counter a! felted, with a little silver on the side. . In the south and middle west the naa tural demand is for silver dollars and . half dollars. Out in the far west the ea business Is mainly in gold, with very .. few bills of any sort. A good deal of imitation silver is turned out, too. This state of affairs is an entirely natyLj ural one, for the simple reason that ? it is always easiest for the counterd feiter in any one region to circulate the sort of money which is most red al)undant in that region. He gets rid het more quickly, since there is no a &reater use f?r '* Ant* ^ 's safer. Once in a while, of course, a particuB " larly nervy gang or individual tries gold in the east or bills on the Pacific coast, but comparatively seldom. How the proposition can possibly pay is puzzling. The larger the coin or bill to be counterfeited the greater mly the danger of detection, and hence the need of a more expensive plant. The -Phg commonest form of making spurious . money is the turning out of basemetal coins?even copper cents?but urt, the operation is always an expensive nd'g one. Silver, for instance, cannot be j successfully cast. Base coins with silver in them must therefore be tch. struck off with a steel die?a die rep[ar resenting days of work on the part of ( be an expert engraver. Then there must be a powerful press to make the imy pression, to say nothing of all the exa* penses of running a chemical laboraon tory and keeping it secret. ierlc T^ere are two principal ways of making counterfeit coins, with endless ate, variations of each. One is casting, tter the other stamping the cold metal, ivas The latter always produces better re the suus> as ine c0,n ,s more accurate and more clearly cut. In the casting isly process a mold is generally made from xed a fresh and genuine coin. In stamp,ver ii:g a die is either cast or cut by hand?both operations require hours and hours of careful work, and then a a the counterfeit metal is put in this of die and struck with one sharp blow >art <)f a heayy !>r? ss. Expert counterfeiters do the work !'g' so well that the average person is ime easily fooled. In making silver coins rset they use a certain amount of silver and adjust the alloy of the other metal so that the finished product out rings almost absolutely true. Gold in coins, being worth more, are often out even niofP carefully worked over. The men take, say, a genuine tendollar gold piece and cut about $4 in- worth of good metal out of it, genal erally from the center, in one or two de- borings. This they pocket, filling in the hole with a base alloy which is Kea treated chemically so that it gives ver every appearance of the gold itself. not Ring the coin or test the edge and it seems good?and detection in work ar" like this is made a hundredfold harder so than the counterfeits where none of ted the pure valuable metal is used. This ver is the sort of work which the two men arrested recently in Astoria are acen" cused of doing. ar- Another favorite habit of silver 9h- counterfeiters it to take silver coins to Central and South American republics, which are many times below ars even our silver in value, and strike up- them off as United States coins under a powerful press which absolutely effects the old esigns. The new coins ev" are silver a a they look all right, tan The only fault is that they are light re- in weight. ex_ In the counterfeiting of paper monev there are four methods used *"8 much oftener than any others. The of first is the copying of notes by hand, ith putting in every finest line and imi... tatfng every silk thread in the paper of the original with delicate pen-anduf ink work. Some of these notes are 18, done so carefully and so accurately er_ that they cannot be detected with the naked eye by some experts. The secvas ond method of making counterfeit Tst notes is the engraving of a steel plate see from which the bogus paper is printed. This engraving must always be done by hand: most of the men who 'u'* have been caught at it have been exL'ou pert engravers, often graduates of j_ some government's treasury department. The Lupo gang, which was tracked to its lair last winter, and of which the nine men arrested on rou December 2 are alleged to be mem. bers. was putting out work of this sort?which so nearly approximated the common bills of our daily cireu jm lation that for months the counterfeits were not even suspected. Photographic reproduction is the ras third favorite method of turning out counterfeit paper. At first thought. > it would seem that this should be abr solutely accurate and that it should ' be most difficult of all counterfieit work to detect, but. strangely enough, ow it is not so. If it were the secret service m'ght have a hard time of it. t I Hut as it is the photo-engraving process is not so good as the old-fashthe ioned band system. The camera reind productions are somehow weak and flat and can be easily detected. Lit- The fourth method is the raising of genuine bills and notes?taking a five dollar bill, for instance, and changing It to a ten. The numerals are erased In the corners and the blanks are z: then filled in so carefully that time Y and again bank cashiers and tellers have been fooled. It takes a good man a whole day to change one bill. Fives s' raised to tens are the most frequent offenders of this sort. The workman . thus makes $5 a day. Considering the risk he takes, it isn't very much, e These, in brief, are the chief methit ods of the counterfeiters. There are e two ways for them to get the spurious money in circulation?banking it or buying articles with big bills or coins ;t and getting good money In exchange. ,e The first is so dangerous that it is seldom done: with good counterfeits 'r the second Is surprisingly safe, y And yet in almost every instance, in >t spite of all care and precaution, counterfeiters are eventually run to earth. Why? Three reasons: banks, e secret service and system, g In the long run most money in ,f circulation comes into the hands of ? some bank. And there the counter. ... ... feit, good or bad, eventually meet# its - downfall. Tellers and cashiers handle r so much currency that they seem to . be gifted with second sight. Every ' once in a while in thumbing over bills or counting a stack of coin a d teller will stop, scrutinize the thing ?( in his hand and then lay it aside. ' Here Is where system comes in. Perhaps he can tell at first glance 0 whether or not the money is bad. If 3 so, he knows what to do. But if he is doubtful, he goes to the back of his cage, where one or more periodicals are lying on a desk. There are two monthly counterfeit-detecting i, magazines published in New York _ city itself. If the note in his hand is a ten Issued by the Auburn City National bank, of Auburn, N. Y., he v looks up New York, then Auburn. 3 Perhaps he finds this: "N. Y? Auburn City National, Check Letter A. July 29, 1865, Chary ter No. 1285: In vignette, lower cor ner. Franklin's kite string is broken, B or hidden by clouds. In genuine, is wholly visible. Seal and numbers nnrir T^athp work on hack noor." And that Is what he wants to know. i If he cannot find a description of the f note In the Counterfeit Detector and still thinks it is not genuine, he takes the second step in the working of the ) system and sends the suspected bill i, to the magazine, which for the prlvllege of looking at It pays him its face value in good money if it turns out to be bad. i The magazine people co-operate in ! turn with the secret service. If the bill is a new counterfeit it is immediately turned over to the government, r and a description of it is straightway . sent out on a postal card by the t magazine?sent out to all banks and t financial houses with which it is in ! touch. And the next teller or cashier [ who gets the mate of the note knows I right off what the counterfeit is. I Perhaps it seems only natural, but t the great bulk of counterfeit discovt eries is made through the banks, r which communicate immediately with . one of the counterfeit-detecting magai zinfes or directly with the secret service. There is a new national law , now, passed only last winter, which . requires that any one possessing a j United States counterfeit of any sort . or having knowledge of its possession ; must notify the treasury department [ at once, under penalty of imprison ment and a heavy fine. The result is ' that the Federal authorities get in [ touch with every newly-discovered counterfeit now within a day or two of its detection?with the result again i that they are able immediately to , i start on the track of the men who i manufactured the money. How does the cashier know whether or not money is good, and how can , you know? A hard question, but best answered first with two big don'ts. And they are: Don't Judge a coin ( by its ring and don't Judge a bill by : | the paper. The ring of a coin will ( often show its genuineness, but the ( 1 thing gets a bit confusing when we learn that many good coins do not i ring true, generally because of some , little imperfection, and that many bad , coins do ring true. As for notes and bills, once in a 1 while you can tell by the paper, but 1 down in the secret service office they j i have a nice collection of them which would fool almost anybody every time. Great heavy five-dollar bills as < thick as pasteboard?perfectly good, ] but soaked with oil or something else which has dried them In this way. Other bills all limp and thinned out ' ?acid work on them, but not in the 1 least impairing their worth. And then , there are some notes which fold and crinkle and show threads in the best 1 approved style?counterfeits. 1 The best ways of passing on a coin's j genuineness are these?its weight in j comparison with one which you knowto be good, its thickness, the feel of 1 it?different metals have different t surface textures?and the accuracy of its workmanship. This last is the easiest test for the average mortal. With paper money the best test is > Its appearance under a microscope, i All genuine bills are machine-engrav- ( ed. This means that all shadings, curves, backgrounds and patterns are 1 formed of minute lines which are ab- 1 solutely unvarying and absolutely un- < broken from end to end. Intersecting lines always cut each other at 1 precisely the same angle where they 1 are supposed to. Parallel lines are i actually and mathematically parallel. | The sween of curving lines is per feet. 1 All this is done In the government i offices by special machines, machines j so expensive and so protected that j counterfeiters could not possibly afford them, as they run anywhere from * $75,000 to $150,000 in value. Makers j of counterfeit paper, therefore, have t to do this work by hand, and although it is often done by the most ex- 1 pert workmen in a way which would i defy ordinary observance, the mi- e croscope will reveal the truth. Handmade lines can give the general effect of those made by machine?but % here and there they wabble, perhaps t in the tiniest possible way, and none j of the lines are of the same fractional breadth from one end to the other. Nor are the curves scientifically exact. 1 So it is that the banks or the secret r service expert can always detect. And so it is, too. that in the long run the c counterfeiter always gets his just de- 1 serts. with a whole country watching ^ for what he does and a silent, tireless government dogging always at his i heels.?New York Sun. ' , , n Bits of Philosophy. r Man shapes his destiny by the attiutde of his own mind; when man loves the good he will live in the uplifting mood, but when he lives in the atmosphere of the evil with delight, he will find it impossible to do the right. 1 When you maKe an oinera tho home you are very likely to find heaven for yourself; if vou are not a kind to your nearest kin, you are not worthy of the hope of heaven. When you doubt your own strength, Providence will never take a hand in your affairs to help you onward; your greatest mistake is made when you * underrate the holding-back power of the doubt. Vnnr enai is ever within your reach if you give to your aims the proper c range; if you aspire to the best and v let your love of the work do the rest * you will never fail. If we grumble today we stumble on a our way and thus fail to make the a world any better; we make mankind '' weary when we are not cheery and r weariness makes a man a quitter. v The bricks in the structure called *' life will not remain long in place when r man is constantly dynamiting that e life with the explosives of negative power?construction Is negatived by I1 destruction. F Thoughts must be lifted with high r motives and man must look up when c he sins; doing your best is your test; failure is not a fault but low aim is a shame. e Man can help the world by working ^ but not by being a mere worm of the \ dust; when man belittles himself he is a compelled to beg for what he should j. get in a better way. t] THE PARADOXICAL CAT. Least Understood of Animals Wi Which Man Has to Do. The nature of the cat Is material f superstition, not for explanation. Mi is the paragon of animals?a w< known quotation. The cat is the pa adox?a quotation from a quite anon; mous author. Man is either civiliz< or savage. Cats are both or either, a cording to circumstances; whli means, as they please. They are d mesticated, but it is a mistake to ct them tame; and the distinction b tween cats and other animals domest cated is that man has not domestical them; they have domesticated then selves, and entirely for their own bei eflt, not man's. Man is in the wor for the comfort, convenience ar pleasure of cats; and man was ma< for the cat, not the cat for man. Ci and man are in leonine partnersh where one takes all the profits and tl other bears all the losses; and the ei is Leo. Not one pleasure or useful servk for man alone has It ever been poss ble to extort from the creature. Sh catches no mice for man. Could ev< human Ingenuity compel It? You ma starve her; but hunger will not do 1 Feed her well and she will catch mlc as a luxury for herself, not as a sei vice for you. Once she hunted In th wilds for hunger, as man did. No1 she hunts for pleasure, as civilized ma shoots his host's birds; and both mus have well breakfasted. Simply because she is beautiful an profitless, man has lavished on the cs attention and admiration, and ha worshiped and even loved her. Sh disproves the philosophy that th beautiful is the useful, and the trans cendentalism of the poet who, forget ting the cat, tells us that beauty I iruui, iruiu ueauiy. ine ueauiy c the cat Is gliding' subtlety, and natur revealed herself Mephistophelian whe she evolved the cat. Man is fascinated by two types c animal life; the Innocent and soft, an the predatory and cruel. He loves th innocence of many birds and beasts but he proves his essential nature b; encouraging the cat on his heart! She epitomizes there the fierce quail ties of all the cat race, and is only pos sible because she is the weakest o her tribe. She brings the air o the wilds into the household. Ou mignon reflects our own innat wildness and resistance to restrain which still survives civillzatioi though we have almost given u] the struggle. Have our cats som< scorn of us for this? We suspect it They have succeeded and we havi failed; and we only obtain the com forts of civilization by sacrificing our selves. If it were possible, men, too thinks grimalkin, would be franklj selfish, indifferent and individualist!! as she is, and would concede nothinj against their immediate Interest an< pleasure. We would like to ignor< conscience, and dare not. We mus compromise with altruism; but oui cat will have none of it. All other anlmals become more or less abject b] their connection with man. Their wil is broken and we teach them the slav< morality of human society. But t< control the will of a cat is like at tempting to catch quicksilver with th( fingers. The cat is the superman wh< has no human feebleness. Neitzschi must have studied the cat. Cats wil play no monkey or dog tricks for oui amusement. Men do that to live 01 prosper, and caper or lie down, no following their own moods, but t< catch the eye of one who holds th< key of the cupboard. The self-respec of the cat is maintained Intact. Th< contempt is evident of the cat for th< dog; a vulgar, servile creature wh< submits to caprice and commands ant iiumiliates himself for a favor or ? fault?even for the faults of his master. It is marvelous aloofness and selfcentredness that the cat has lived foi ages in a close connection that has never become Intimacy with man ant the dog, and has remained unaffectec in temperament and habits. "The do^ Brill come when he is called; the cat win waiK away,' sings a primuivt ?oet. More probably she will nol vouchsafe you so much recognition but will remain enshrouded in profound nattention. The call is a claim to pro)rietorship, and the cat has practiced i consummate passive resistance tc hat for millenniums. Let the cal! )ring something within the ambit oi ler own inclinations, and you will gel ittention quickly enough; she remains incomproinised. Cats render no service for love or in requital of love. Some imagine they do; but this is no evidence against the cat. Cats would ineer at the suggestion: as men and vomen do who receive more love than hey win, and are, like cats, more or ess what alienists call morally inane. For cats are impervious to moral essons and discipline, and man has lot imposed on them any such shadiwy copy of his own moral code as he las imposed on other animals who Iwell with him and are in his service, tny animal but the cat, with sufficient ntellect for man to talk to, may be noralized in various ways according to nan's standard. She may be taught lot to steal, as she is in the bird-shops; >ut she never shows signs of contriion or repentance or shame when she s reprimanded or punished. She re ains unsopnisticatea me non-moraiuy if all animals in the wilds. Intellecually, too, she remains least touched, tnd perhaps untouched, in the Intincts which are blunted in the tamed nimal of civilization.?London Saturlay Review. SOME NOTABLE HANGMEN. How They Are Paid in England and What They Have Done. In spite of the gruesome calling, ohn Ellis, the man who hanged 'rippen, has earned the esteem of a ery wide circle of acquaintances in tochdale, where he carries on very uccessfully a hairdressing and news gent's business. Ellis is a quiet, unissuming man. who rarely betrays lis interest In crime. He would much ather talk to you about football, of .'hieh game he is an enthusiastic folower, or discuss musical entertainn o ri t o T ?t It i o no rltf dotfo Vt o Vt o A oO m. d his living by singing, while on a our through Lancashire, and still lossesses a good barytone voice. And irlvileged visitors are allowed to iiake the acquaintance of his dogs, ats and chickens, the pets of his our children. Ellis has assisted in over sixty excutions, and has personally carried ut seven, among others who met eath at his hands being Dougal, the loat Farm murderer. It was through cting as assistant to Billington that lllis became chief executioner, and : Is an extraordinary fact that when he post becomes vacant the home office is inundated with applicatlo for the appointment. Indeed, when Marwood, who si tn ceed?d Calcraft in 1883, retired, fewer than 12,000 persons sought t or post. Berry being appointed. Calcraft, who retired in 1874, w paid 1 guinea a week by the corpoi tion of London as a retaining fee, a r- an extra 1 guinea for each executk ... He had besides, from the county Surrey, 5 guineas annual retain! ed fee, 1 guinea for each execution a c- 10 guineas for an execution in t ch country. Nowadays about ?10 is paid to t j hangman for every execution he c? ries out. Berry, who succeeded Ma e- wood, was engaged in over 200 ex j. cutlons in nine years, and carried 1 sentences into effect. According his own statement, he earned ov n- ?100 in the first four months of 181 i- At one time, it might be mentlone the hangman received as perquisit the convict's clothes, which he i 1(* ually sold for a good price to sho1 le men. These, however, are nc at burned. It was quite by accident that Ma 'P wood became Calcraft's successt c i ne siury goes mat ne mei uaicrs it one morning as the latter was goli to an execution, and, seeing that tl old man was 111, undertook to do th particular Job for him. The ' oft 1- was accepted, and so Marwood fir G obtained an Introduction to his futu calling. When Calcraft retired Ma ;r wood was retained by the Lond< ,y sheriffs at a fee of ?20 a year, at t. on the strength of this engageme he contracted with provincial sherll !e to carry out any executions for whl< they might be responsible. Calcra (e has been described as a mild-mai nered man, devoted to fishing, whl Marwood was not without repute i n a local preacher, it Py the way. Major Griffiths has to a strange story apropos of the ru . laid down by the home office that tl a executioner must sleep In the prise it on the night before an executio a Some wags in Scotland seized Calcra the night before an execution ar kept him locked up. Meanwhile tl e sheriff was in despair, expecting th; i- he would have to do the Job hlmsel _ At the last moment, however, Calcra turned up. s The most notable hangman of tl ?f earlier holders of the office we: e Derrick, who gave his name to tl special kind of crane known as derrick, and Jack Ketch, who exi cuted, among others, William Loi if Russell and the Duke of Monmout! d and who bequeathed his name as nickname to his successors for nearl e a couple of centuries. Then there wi ! Dennis, who was almost hanged hln y self for taking part In the "N j Popery" riots, and Thomas Chesir ' known as "Old Cheese." Perhaps the most extraordlnar - executioner of all, however, was tl f celebrated "Lady Betty"?what h< . real name was no one seems to kno ?who at the beginning of last cer r tury officiated as hangwoman for e number of years in Ireland.?Tit Bit t ' * n Held Two Lions at Bay. p Stage fright of the sort that al e flicted "Whit" Cunliffe, at one time prominent singer in English musl e halls, Is not avoidable. Fortunatelj . also, It Is not common. At a plac . where he was engaged In Blrmlng ham one of the attractions was th f lion show, some of the beasts beln 3 really wild and untamed. Nearly th ' whole stage was taken up with th * "setting"?the animal show. 1 "Just as I was going on," said Cun e liffe, In telling the Incident, "I hear t a hurried rush and confused shout ing, and some one slammed an Iro r gate. I heard a voice say, 'Just 1 time; he was nearly out.' My musl r was starting, so I had no time to in j quire. I went on the stage. "In a moment I heard ominou 3 growls and savage snarls mixed wit> much whip-cracking and strenuou . breathing. I am never fond of ^ wild animal show and I felt distinct " ly nervous that night. The cloth be 5 hind me sagged and swayed?an 8 then, to my horror, suddenly In th 1 the wings I saw the huge head an front of a?ttmrt- ? r "I was singing a song called ' r Would,' which had a lot of shot t verses. As I sang them, my bloo j running cold, I watched the lion. 1 seemed slowly to advance, and it 8 baneful eyes glittered In a truly hor t rlble way. I could not go off tha side without passing It, so I prepare to 'exit' with haste. 'Turning, I was doubly horrlfle to see another lion on the othe side! "I was caught like a mouse in trap. I dared not go off the stage I dared not show my discomfiture t the audience. There was only on thing for me to do?sing. So I san in desperation, hoping that some on would come and take those lion away. They told me afterward tha I sang 98 verses. But I think that wa unkind. "I wondered how long It woul< take those two brutes to make ui their minds to come into the full glar of the footlights, and I had Just pre pared to leap into the stalls, regard less of the consequences, when heard the hoarse voice of one of th stage hands say: ' 'Ere, Bill, thes two chaps are too far forward. Giv a 'and with them, will yer? Am coming up Deuveen me nvo nuns, mc, ' lifted them bodily. They were pa ' piermache!"?Scraps. Blessing the Beasts.?A quaint cere 1 mony is that still obtaining In som parts of Normandy?the "benedictlo: des bestiaux." 1 The oxen, the asses and the draugh 1 horses are assembled in front of i church. There may also be a bullocl or two, and perhaps some cows. Th procession of peasants, clad in thel very best, issues from the church to th' sound of a chant that Is droned by th' priest. The venerable cure sprinkles i i few drops of water on the heads of thi beasts, and when all the animals haV' received the benediction the next feat ure of the ceremony is to place at thi pedestal of the cross facing the churcl certain bundles tied in coarse liner These bundles contain bread and salt which are to be given to those beast; not able to attend the ceremony.. I ONE MINU: Your personal appearance is cause of the favorable impr< business people with whom ; were not true, would not a $ as well as would a $25.00 si the $25.00 garment, don't yoi How About Your 1 It Is Your Personal you are unable to do business marks of Cheapness and Poc bad impression on the man. That's reasonable, is it not? Better give THE YOI your next order for Stationi is Printed Matter of a Quality & sion. The difference in cosi 1 ENQUIRER QUALITY is H appearance is very great. C jw Stationery I L. M. Grist's: I YORKVI] ins BATTLES WITH LOCUSTS. In 1780 an Army Wat Arrayed Againat he the Ravaging Pests. Since the days of the pharaohs the locust has been an unmitigated plague. n(j Pliny relates that in many places in >n. Greece a law obliged the inhabitants to wage war against the insects three "f t'mes a year?1. e? in their various 2? states of egg, larvae and adult. In 1749 lucusts stopped the army of . Charles XII., king of Sweden, as it *1 was retreating from Bessarabia after its defeat at Poltava. The king at first imagined that he was being assailed by rj a terrific hailstorm. In Transylvania in 1780 the ravages of the locusts assumed such disastrous .7. proportions that the army had actually 'V* to b?. called out to deal with the pests, and whole regiments of soldiers were employed gathering them up and putting them into sacks. ' A weird, uncanny looking customer is the locust. The general color scheme of his body is a kind of indefln)r~ ite green, relieved by pink legs and wings of a whitish color. Two huge, hlo nlr nnmnonlro' dirna irhfa an nvnroa. slon of utter Imbecility to the insect's at countenance. er To atone in a measure for their de,gt structive proclivities the locusts are re edible. The Arabs are particularly r_ fond of them. Camels, to which they Jn are given after being dried and roasted )(> between two layers of ashes, look upon nt locusts as great delicacies. <fg The flavor resembles that of crabs, and in Bagdad they are consumed so 'ft extensively as to affect the price of n_ meat.?Stray Stories, le 13 Look Before You Leap. Id r le While it is a fact that there are sevie eral hundred citizens in York county >n who carry from one to a half dozen n. policies in the Mutual Benefit, and ft each one of them is entirely satisfied id that they have the best there is in ie life insurance, (and they are correct) ^t there are several hundred others who If- either have none anywhere, or if they ft have any at all in many instances they have much less than they consciie entiously believe they should have, or re than they are able to carry without ie embarrassment, and to these I beg to a say that there will never be a better s- time than during the present month 'd to attend to this important matter, n? for the reason that you win never De a younger than you are today, and if ly you are in physical condition to be 13 O. K'd. by the doctor now is your i- time. Of course there are other good companies besides the Mutual Bene?. fit, and we rejoice in the fact, but not one of them can, does or will y guarantee its members so much or ie has such a record for uniformly -r clean and honorable dealing behind w it. You can test the foregoing asser'* tion to your satisfaction, if you try. a Look before you leap as becomes a s- wise man. Fools leap and then look, and frequently whine. It is my business to show those who look , first. SAM M. GRIST, Special Agent, a I The e : Difference d Between a good and a poor preparan n tion in business method is just the dif c . ference between system and carelessg ness, between success and failure. ^ Deposit your money with us and do & your business in a systematic manner. ? The Bank of Glover, j ozjOVbr, m. o. t d - Fertilizers t d ? Farm Supplies a Before you make any contracts for ! FERTILIZERS or FARM SUPPLIES for the year 1911, come and see me. I e am prepared to furnish you with evg erything needful for your farm and in e working your crops, and can Supply a you with what you want on the right 1 terms and at the right prices. Come s and see me before you trade. ^ I especially want you to see me beP fore contracting for your FERTILIp ZERS. I sell as good as there is made - and can supply you in any quantity - from a single sack to carloads in the I grades you want to use. \ W. R. CARROLL v Automobile : Supplies. n Automobile owners will please ret member the RIDDLE AUTO COMPANY when in need of anything in a Automobile Supplies. We are carryk ing a good line of Supplies and cone stantly adding to it. Come and see us r 'or e GASOLINE e OILS GREASES 1 TOOLS 0 AUTO ACCESSORIES, ETC. e You will find that our qualities and our prices are Just right. 0 If you run a Gasoline Engine any1 where, come and see us for the best L Dry Batteries, j RIDDLE AUTO COMPANY. F. C. RIDDLE, Proprietor. TE, PLEASE! I of vital importance to you be- fi ;ssion you would make on the H you come into contact. If this B 5.98 suit of clothes do you just lit? But, you naturally prefer 11? Printed Stationery1 Representative in cases where ? face to face. If it has the ear>r Quality, it is sure to make a , you seek to do business with. ?KVILLE ENQUIRER your :ry. You will be sure to get that will make a good imprest between the cheap kind and very small. The difference in }ive Us Your Next Order for | Sons, Printers, LLE, S. C.