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; lewis m. grist, Proprietor, j %n Jitbejpknf Jfamilj HUfospaptr: Jor % |)rotnotion of % ^Political, Serial, Agricultural anb Commercial Interests of % Soafjj. | TERMS?$2.50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. VOL. 33. YOBKVILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY. FEBRUARY 16, 1887. NO. 7. ? ferial Jfofg. ; wlEIiro: BT BRET HARTE. , [Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., and 1 published by arrangement with them.] i J CHAPTER IV?Continued. "I'm not going to shoot you now," said Lee, i smiling, "so you will have a chance to die ] with your boots on, if you are superstitious, i I only want you to oxchange them for that 1 pair of Hale's in the corner. The fact is I ] have taken a fancy to yours. That fashion i of wearing the stockings outside strikes me as f one of the neatest things out." i Manuel sullenly drew off his boots with Hair mnffloH roverincr. and Dut on the. ones j designated. ] "Now open the door." j He did so. Falkner was already waiting i at the threshold. "Turn Manuel loose with the other, Ned, but disarm him first. They j might quarrel The habit of carrying arms, i Manuel," added Lee, as Falkner took a pistol i and bowio knife from the balfbreed, "is of 1 itself provocative of violence and inconsistent i with a bucolic and pastoral life." I When Falkner returned he said hurriedly ] to bis companion: "Do you think it wise, George, to let those hellhounds loose? Good 1 God! I could scarcely lot my grip of bis 1 throat go when I thought of what they were hunting." \ "My dear Ned," said Lee, luxuriously en- i sconcing himself under the bedclothes again i with a slight shiver of delicious warmth. "I i must warn you against allowing the natural < pride of a higher walk to prejudice you against the general level of our profession. I Indeed, I was quite struck with the justice of 1 Manuel's protest that I was interfering with i certain rude processes of his own toward re- 1 suits airaed at by others." i "George!" interrupted Falkner almost savagely. "WelL I admit it's getting rather late in : the evening for pure philosophical inquiry, and you are tired. Practically, then, it was wise to let them get away before they discov- i ered two things. One, our exact relations ] here with these women; and the other, how < many of us were here. At present they think i we are three or four in possession and with i the consent of the women." "The dogs!" "They are paying us the highest compli- j ment they can conceive of by supposing us cleverer scoundrels than themselves. You i are very unjust, Ned." ] "If they escape and tell their story?" 1 "We shall have the rare pleasure of know- ] ing we are better than people believe us. And now put those boots away somewhere ] where we can produce them if necessary, as i evidence of Manuel's evening call At present we'll keep the thing quiet, and in the early morning you can find out where they got in and remove any traces they have left i It is no use to frighten the women. There's i no fear of their returning." I "And if they get away}" i "We can follow in their tracks." > "If Manuel gives the alarm?" "With his burglarious boots left behind in the house? Not much! Good night, Ned. . Go to bed." With these words Lee turned on his side and quietly resumed his interrupted slumber. Falkner did not, however, follow this sensible advice. When he was satisfied that his friend was sleeping he opened the door softly and looked out. He did not appear to be listening, for his eyes were fixed upon a small pencil of light that stole across the passage from the foot of Kate's door. He watched it until it suddenly disappeared, when, leaving the door partly open, he threw himself on his : couch without removing his clothes. The I slight movement awakened the sleeper, who was beginning to feel tho accession of fever. He moved restlessly. "George." said Falkner, softly. < "Yes." i "Where was it we passed that old Mission 1 church on the road one dark night, and saw i the light burning before the figure of the i Virgin through the window?" 1 There was a moment of crushing silence. W "Does that mean you're wanting to light the candle again?" -XMO." "Then don't lie there inventing sacrilegious < conundrums, but go to sleep." Nevertheless, in the morning his fever was slightly woree. Mrs. Hale, offering her condolence, said, "I know that you have not been resting well, for even after your friend met with that mishap in the hall, I heard your voices and Kate says your door was open all night. You have a little fever, too, Mr. Falkner." ] George looked curiously at Falkner's pale face?it was burning. 1 1 CHAPTER V. i The speed and f^ry with which Clinch's i cavalcade swept on in tho direction of the mysterious shot left Hale no chance for re- i flection. He was conscious of shouting in- ] coherently with tho others, of urging his i horse irresistibly forward, of momentarily < expecting to meet or overtake something, but i without any further thought The figures of Clinch and Rawlins immediately before him 1 shut out tho prospect of the narrowing trail. J Once only, taking advantage of a sudden halt i that threw them confusedly together, he managed to ask a question. i "Lost their track?found it again!" shouted ! ; the ostler, as Clinch, with a cry like the bay- 1 ing of a bound, again darted forward. Their i horses were panting and trembling under them, the ascent seemed to be growing < steeper, a singular darkness, which oven the ' density of the wood did not sufficiently account for, surrounded them, but still their * leader madly urged them on. To Hale's re- 1 turning senses they did not seem in a condi- ? tion to engage a single resolute man, who might have ambushed in the woods or beaten them in detail in the narrow gorge, but in another instant the reason of their furious haste was manifest. Spurring his horse ahead, Clinch dashed out into the open with a cheering shout?a shout that as quickly changed to a yell of imprecation. They were on the Ridge in a blinding snowstorm! The road had already vanished under their feet, and with it the fresh trail they had so closely folioweil! They stood helplessly on the shore of a trackless white sea. blank and spotless of any trace or sign of the fugitives. " 'Pears to me, boys," said the ostler, suddenly ranging before them, "ef you're not kalkilatiu' on gittin' another party to dig ye out, ye'tl better be huntin' fodder and cover instead of road agents. 'Bkuso me, gentlemen, but I'm responsible for the bosses, and this ain't no time for circus ridin'. We're a matter o' six miles from the station in a bee line." I 'Back to the trail, then," said Clinch, wheeling his horse toward the road they had j just quitted. t " 'Skuse me, Kernel," said the ostler, laying j his hand 011 Clinch's rein, "but that way only brings us back the road we kem?the stage road?three miles further from home. That three miles is on the divide, and by the time we get there it will be snowed up worse nor this. The shortest cut is along the Ridge. If we hump ourselves we ken cross the divide afore the road is blocked. And that, 'skuso me, gentlemen, is my road." 5 There was no time for discussion. The I road was already palpably thickening under | their ,'eet. Hale's arm was stiffened to his I side by a wet, clinging snow wreath. The figures of the others were almost obliterated I and shapeless. It was not snowing?it was snowballing! The hugo flakes, shaken like enormous feathers out of a vast blue bla,ck cloud, commingled and fell in sprays and patches. All idea of their former pursuit was forgotten; the blind rage and enthusiasm that had possessed them was gone. They dashed after their new leader with only an instinct for shelter and succor. They had not ridden long when fortunately, as it seemed to Hale, the character of the storm changed. The snow no longer fell in such large flakes, nor as heavily. A bitter wind succeeded; the soft snow began to stiffen and crackle under the horses' hoofs; they were no longer weighted and encumbered by the drifts upon their bodies; the smaller flakes now rustled and rasped against them like sand, or bounded from them like bail. They seemed to be moving more easily and rapidly, their spirits were rising with the stimulus of cold and motion, when sud aeniy uicir jeaaer naneu. "It's no use, boys. It can't be done! Thi3 is no blizzard, but a regular two days' snifter! It's no longer meltin', but packin' and driftin' now. Even if we get over tbe divide, we're sure to be blocked up in tbe pass." It was true! To their bitter disappointment :hey could now see that tbe snow bad not really diminished in quantity, but that th* now finely powdered particles were rapidly llling all inequalities of the surface, packing in long furrows across the levels. They looked with anxiety at their self-constituted leader. "We must make a break to get down in the woods again before it's too late," he said briefly. But they had already drifted away from the fringe of larches and dwarf pines that marked the sides of the Ridge, and lower ilown merged into the dense forest that clothed the flank of the mountain they had lately '?J 1 f* ^Af^f /i;m. JiiuiueU| aim it; was miu iuu ^icavwv w?u?culty that they again reached it, only to find that at that point it whs too precipitous for the descent of their horses. Benumbed and speechless, they continued to toil on, opposed to tuc full fury of the stinging snow, and at times obliged to turn their horses to the blast to keep from being blown over the Ridgo. At the end of half an hour the ostler dismounted, and, beckoning to tho others, took his horse by tho bridle and began tho descent. When it came to Hale's turn to dismount he could not help at first recoiling from the prospect before him. The trail?if it could be so called?was merely the track or furrow of some fallen tree, dragged, by accident or design, diagonally across the sides of the mountain. At times it appeared scarcely a foot in width; at other times a mere crumbling gully, or a narrow shelf made by the projections of dead boughs and collected debris. It seemed perilous for a foot passenger; it appeared impossible for a horse. Nevertheless, he had taken a step forward when Clinch laid his hand on his arm. , "You'll bring up the rear," he said, not unkindly, "ez you're a stranger here. Wait until wo sing out to you." 'But if I Drefer to take the same risks as you all?" said Hale, stiffly. "You kin," said Clinch, grimly. "But I reckoned, as you weren't familiar with this sort o' thing, you wouldn't keer, by any foolishness o' yours, to stampede the rocks ahead of us, and break down tho trail, or send down an avalanche on top of us. But just ez you like.." "I will wait, then," said Hale, hastily. . The rebuke, however, did him good service. It preoccupied his mind, so that it renamed unaffected by the dizzy depths, and mabled him to abandon himself mechanically to tho sagacity of his horse, who was xmtented simply to follow the hoofprints of Lhe preceding animal, and in a few moments ihey reached the broader trail below without 1 mishap. A discussion regarding their future movements was already taking place. The impossibility of regaining the station at the Summit was admitted; the way down the mountain to the next settlement was still left to them, or the adjacent woods, if they wished for an encampment. The ostler once mora assumed authority. "'Skuse mc, gentlemen, but them horses don't take no pasecer down tho mountain tonight. The stago road ain't a mile off, and I kalkilate to wait here till the up stage comes, file's bound to stop 011 account of the snow; ind I've done my dooty when I hand the borses over to the driver." "But if she hears of the block up yer, and. waits at the lower station!" said Rawlins. "Then I've done my dooty all the same. Skuse me, gentlemen, but them ez hez their own horses kin doez they like." As this clearly pointed to Hale, he briefly assured his companions that he had no intention of deserting them. "If I cannot reach, Eagle's Court I shall at least keep as near ic is possible. I suppose any messenger from my house to the Summit will learn where I am and why I am delayed?" "Messenger from your house!" gasped Rawlins. "Are you crazy, stranger? Only a bird would get outer Eagle's now; and it would Lev to be an eagle at that! Between your house and the Summit the snow must be ten feet by this time, to say nothing of the drift in the pass." Hale felt it was the truth. At any other time he would have worried over this unex 4:? 1 ..44 : _ 1 _ 4: c .11 pei'Leu siiuuLiuu, uuu in utter viuiutiuu ut uil bis traditions. He was past that now, and Bven felt a certain relief. He knew bis family were safe; it was enough. That they were locked up securely, and incapable of interfering with him, seemed to enhance his new, half conscious, half shy enjoyment of in adventurous existence. The ostler, who had been apparently lostin contemplation of the steep trail he had just descended, suddenly clapped his hand tobis leg with an ejaculation of gratified astonishment. "Waal, darn my skin ef that ain't Henuiek?r's 'slide' all the time! I heard it was somewhat about here." Rawlins briefly explained to Hale that a. ilide was a rude incline for the transit of leavy goods that could not be carried down, i trail. "And Hennicker's," continued tho man, 'ain't more nor a mile away. Ye might try Hennicker's at a push, eh?" By a common instinct tho whole party looked dubiously at Hale. "Who's Hennicker?" he felt compelled to ask. The ostler hesitated and glanced at tho jthers to reply. "There are folks," he said lazily at last, "ez beleeves that Hennicker ain't much better nor the crowd we're hunting; but they don't say it to Hennicker. Wo needn't let on what we're after." "I for one," said Hale stoutly, "decidedly abject to any concealment of our purpose." "It don't follow," said Rawlins carelessly, 'that Hennicker even knows of this yer robbery. It's his gineral gait wo refer to. r?* <tAH l?i?iL- if mnra i\/-\1ifn nur! if. Tiiulroa if UL J CI IIJIUIV lb 414VS1V |/VUbV, M??U ?V MIMAVU ?V nore sociable to discuss this matter aforo lim, I'm agreed." "Hale means," said Clinch, ''that it wouldn't be on the square to take and makelse of any points we might pick up there igin the road agents." "Certainly," said Hale. It was not at all ivhat he had meant, but he felt singularly elieved at the compromise. "And ez I reckon Hennicker ain't such a. 'ool as not to know who we are and what ive'rc out for," continued Clinch, "I reckon ;bere ain't any concealment." "Then it's Hennicker's?* said the ostler,, ivith swift deduction. "Hennicker it is! Lead on." The ostler remounted his horse and the >thers followed. The trail presently turned nto a broader track, that bore some signs of ipproaching habitations, and at the end of ive minutes they came upon a clearing. It ,vas part of one of the fragmentary mountain :erraees, and formed by itself a vast niche, or bracketed shelf, in the hollow flank of the mountain that, to Halo's first glance, bore rude rosemblance to Eaglo's Court But there was neither meadow nor open field; the few acres of ground had been wrested from the forest by ax and fire, and unsightly stumps everywhere marked the rude and difficult attempts at cultivation. Two or three rough buildings of unplaned and unpaintcd boards, connected by rambling sheds, stood in the center of the ampitheatre. Far from being protected by the encircling rampart, it seemed to be the selected arena for the combating elements. A whirlwind from the outer abyss continually filled this cave of ASolus with driving sr.ow, which, however, melted as it fell, or was quickly whirled away again. A few dogs barked and ran out to meet the cavalcade, but there was no other sign of any life disturbed or concerned at their approach. "T Twbnn Wennieker ain't home or he'd hev been on tho lookout afore this," said the ostler, dismounting and rapping at tho door. After a silenco a female voice, unintelligibly to the others, apparently had some colloquy -with the ostler, who returned to the party. "Must go in through the kitchin?can't open the door for the wind." Leaving their horses in the shed, they entered the kitchen, which communicated, and presently came upon a square room filled with smoke from a fire of green pine logs. The doors and windows were tightly fastened; the only air came in through the large throated chimney in voluminous gusts, which seemed to make the hollow shell of the apartment swell and expand to the point of bursting. Despite tho stinging of the resinous smoke, the temperature was grateful to the benumbed travelers. Several cushionless arm chairs, such as were used in barrooms, two tables, a sideboard, half bar and half cupboard, and a rocking chair comprised the furniture, and a few Iwar and buffalo skins covered tho floor. Hale sank into one of the arm chairs, and, with a lazy satisfaction, partly lxrnn of his fatigue and partly from some newly discovered appreciative faculty, gazed around the room, and then at the mistress of the house, with whom the others were talking. She was tall, gaunt and withered; in spite of her evident years, her twisted hair was still dark and full, and her eyes bright and piercing; her complexion and teeth had long since succumbed to tho vitiating effects of frontier cookery, and her lips were stained with the yellow juice of a brier wood pipe she held in her mouth. The ostler had explained their intrusion, and veiled their character under the vague epithet of a "hunting party," and was now evidently describing them personally. In his new found philosophy the fact that the interest of his hostess seemed to be excited only by the names'of his companions, that he himself was carelessly, and even deprecatingly, alluded to as the "stranger from Eagle's" by the ostler, and completely overlooked by the old woman, gave him no concern. "You'll have to talk to Zenobia yourself. Dod rot ef I'm gine to interfere. She knows Hennicker's ways, and if she chooses to take in transients it ain't no funeral o' mine. Zeenie! You, Zeenie! Lookyer!" A tall, lazy looking, handsome girl appeared on the threshold of the next room, and with a hand on each door post, slowly swung hei-self backward and forward, without entering. "Well, maw." The old woman briefly and unalluringly pictured the condition of the travelers. "Paw ain't here," began the girl, doubtfully, "and? Howdy, Dick! Is that you!" The interruption was caused by her recognition of the ostler, and she lounged into the room. In spite of a skimp, slatternly gown, whose straight skirt clung to her lower limbs, there was a quaint, nymph-like contour to her figure. Whether from languor, ill health, or more probably from a morbid consciousness of her own height, she moved with a slightly affected stoop that had become a habit. It did not seem ungraceful to Hale, already attracted by her delicate profile, her lurge uarK eyes, unu a cei uim ?cnu ?wembianco sbo had to some half-domesticated dryad. "That'll do, maw," she said, dismissing her parent with a nod. "I'll talk to Dick." As the door closed on the old woman Zenobia leaned her hands on tho back of a chair, and confronted the admiring eyes of Dick with a goddess-liko indifference. "Now, wot's the use of your playin' thii yer game on me, Dick? Wot's the good of your ladlin' out that hog wash about huntin'l "Hot's the good of your ladlin' out that hog wash about huntin'"" Huntin'! I'll tell yer the huntin' you-uns hev been at! You've been huntin' George i Leo and his boys since an hour before sun up. You've been followin'a blind trail up to the Ridge, until the snow got up and hunted you right here! You've been whoopin' and yellin' 5 and circus ridin' on the roads like ez yer woa ; Comanches, and frightening all the women folk within miles?that's yer huntin'! You've been clitnbin'downpaw'sold slide at last, and i makin' tracks for hero to save Iho skins of I them condemned government horses of the kempany! And that's your huntin'!"' To Hale's surprise a burst of laughter from the party followed this speech. He tried to join in, but this ridiculous summary of the ; result of his enthusiastic sense of duty left him?the only earnest believer- mortified and i embarrassed. Nor was he the less concerned [j as be found the girl's dark eyes had rested | once or twice upon him curiously, jj Zenobia laughed too, and, lazily, turning 5 the chair around, dropped into it. "And by ;! this time George Lee's loungin' buck in his jj ehyar and smokin' his cigar somewhar in Sac!j ramento," she added, stretching her feet out j to the fire, and suiting the action to the word with an imaginary cigar between the long j fingers of a thin and not over clean hand. ; "We cave, Zeenie!" said Rnwlins, when j. their hilarity hud subsided to a more sulnlued !j and scarcely less fluttering admiration of the unconcerned goddess before them. "That's I about the size of it. Ye kin rake down the j> pile. I forgot you're an old friend of ' Georce's." "He's a white man!" said the girl doeidjj edly. "Ye used to know him f" continued Iiuwji line. j: ' Once. Paw ain't in that line now,'' she !; said simply. |j There was such a sublime un< onsciousness jj of any moral degradation involved in this i allusion that even Halo accepted it without : a shock. She rose presently, und, going to ;| the little sideboard, brought out a number of | glasses; these she handed to each of the party, * and then, producing a demijohn of whisky, j slung it dexterously and grucefullv over her J arm, so that it rested on her elbow like a J cradle, and, going to each one in succession, I filled their glasses. If obliged each one to rise to accept the libation, and as Hale did so in his turn he met the dark eyes of the girl full on his own. There was a pleased curiosity in her glance that made this married man of 35 color as awkwardly as a boy. The tender of refreshments being understood as a tacit recognition of their claims to a larger hospitality, ull further restraint was removed. Zenobia resumed her seat, and placing her elbow on the arm of her chair, and her small round chin in her hand, looked thoughtfully in the lire. "When I say George Lee's a white man, it uin't because I know him. It's his general gait. Wot's he ever done that's underhanded or mean? Xothin'l You can't show tbo poor man he's ever took a picayune from. When he's helped himself to a pile it's been oi.'er til .n banks or them express companies, that think it mighty line to bust up themselves and swindle thu poor folks o' their last cent, mid nobody talks o' huntin' them! And does he keep their moneyf No; he passes it round among the boys that help bim, and they put it in circulation. He don't keep it for himself; ho ain't got line houses in Frisco; he don't keep fust horses for show. Like ez not the critter he did that job with?ef it was him?none of you boys would have rid! And betakes all the risks himself; you ken bet your life that every man with him was safe and away afore he turned his back on you uns." "He certainly drops a little of his money at draw poker, Zeenie," said Clinch, laughing. "He lost So,(XX) to Sheriff Kelly last week." "Well, I don't hem- of the sheriff huntin' him to give it back, nor do I reckon Kelly handed it over to the express it was taken from. I heard you won suthin' from him a spell ago. I reckon you've been huntin' him to find out whar you should return it" The laugh was clearly against Clinch. Ho was about to make some rallying rejoinder when the young girl suddenly interrupted kirn. "Ef yo're wantin' to hunt somebody, why don't you take higher game ? Thar's that Jim Harkins; go for him, ami I'll join you." "Harkins!" exclaimed Clinch and Hale, simultaneous!}*. "Yes, Jim Harkins; do you know him!" she said, glancing from the one to the other. "One of my friends do," said Clinch, laugh ing; "but don't let that stop you." "And you?over there," continued Zenobia, bending her bead and eyes toward Hale. "The fact is?I "believe he was my banker," said Hale, with a smile. "I don't know him personally." "Then you'd better hunt him before be does you." "What's ho done, Zeenie?" asked Rawlins, keenly enjoying the discomfiture of the others, "\\ natf" She stopped, thrcSv her long black braids over her shoulder, clasped her knee with her hands, and rocking backward and forward, sublimely unconscious of the apparition' of a slim ankle and half dropped ofl slipper from under her shortened gown, continued: "It mighn't please him," sho said, slyly, nodding toward Hale. "Pray don't mind me," said Hale, with unnecessary eagerness. "Pray don't mind me " said I/ale. "Well," said Zenobiu, "I reckon you all know Ned Falkner and the Excelsior Ditch?" "Yes, Falkner's the superintendent of it," said Rawlins. "And a square man too. Thar ain't anything mean about him." "Shake," said Zenobia, extending her hand. Rawlins shook the proffered hand with eager spontuncousness, and the girl resumed: "He's about ez good ez they make 'em?you bet. Well, you know Ned has put all his money, and all his strength, and all his sabe, and" "His good looks," added Clinch, mischievously. "Into that ditch," continued Zenobia, ig (itfo 1,,'c 11U1 J"o UIU lumiujiuvii. * , o 11.10 , it's his sweetheart, it's his everything! When other chaps of his age was cavortin' round Frisco, and bavin1 high jinks, Ned was in his ditch. 'Wait till the ditch is donef he used to say. 'Wait till she begins to/ooom, and then you just stand round.' More'n that, he got all the boys to put in their last cent?for they loved Ned, and love him now, like ez ef he wos a woman." ^'That's so," said Clinch and Rawlins simultaneously, "and he's worth it." "Well," continued Zenobia, "the ditch didn't boom ez ?oon ez they lcalkilatcd. And then the boys kept gettin' poorer and poorer, and Ned he kept gettin' poorer and poorer in everything but his hopefulness and grit. Then he looks around for more capital. And about this time that coyoto Hnrkins smelt suthin' nice up there, and he gits Ned to give hun control of it and he'll lend him his name and fix up a company. Soon ez he gets control, the first thing he does is to say that it wants $300,000 o' money to make it pay and levies an assessment of $200 a share. That's nothiu' for them rich fellows to pay, or pretend to pay, but for boys on grub wages it meant only ruin. They wouldn't pay, and had to forfeit their shares for next to nothing. And Ned made 0110 more desjierate attempt to save them and himself by borrowing money on his shares; when that hound Harkins got wind of it, and lot it be buzzed around thut the ditch is a failure, and that he was goin' out of it; that brought the shares down to nothing. As Ned couldn't raise a dollar the new company swooped down on his shares for the debts they had put up. and left him and the boys to help themselves. Ned couldn't bear to face the boys that he'd helped to ruin and put out, and ain't been heard from since. After Harkins had got rid of Ned and the boys he manages to pay oil' that wonderful debt, and sells out for $100,000. That money?Ned's money?he sends to Sacramento, for he don't dare to travel with it himself, and is kalkilatin' to leave the kintry, for some of the boys allow to kill him on sight. So ef you're wantiu' to hunt suthin', thar's yer chance, and you needn't go inter the snow to do it." "But surclv the law can recover this mem y?" said Hale indignantly. "It is as in, famous a robbery us"?. Ho stopped as he ; caught Zenobia's eye. "Ez last night's, you were goin' to say. I'll eall it more. Them road agents don't pretend to be your frier I?but take yer money and run their risks. For ez to the law, that can't help yer." "It's a skin giune, and you might ez well expect to recover a gambling debt from a short card sharp," explained Clinch; "Falklicr oughter shot him on sight." "Or the boys lynched him," suggested Rawlins. "I think," said Hale, more reflectively, "that in the absence of legal remedy a man of that kind should have been forced under strong physical menace to give up his illgotten gains. The money was the primary object, and if that could be got without 1 bloodshed?which seems to me a useless crime?it would be quite as effective. Of course, if there was resistance or retaliation, it might be necessary to kill him." He had unconsciously fallen into his old didactic and dogmatic habit of speech, and ]>erhnps, under the spur of Zenobia's eyes, ho i h?d given it some natural emphasis. A dead silence followed, in which the others regarded him With amused and gratified surprise, and it wa* broken only by Zenobia rising and holding out her hand. "Shake!" Ila? raised it gallantly and pressed his lips on thi one sjratless linger. "That's gospel truth. And you ain't the fii-st while man to say it." "Indeed," laughed Hale. "Who was the otherr "George Lee!" CHAPTER VI. The laughter tuat followed wus interrupted by a Shdden barking of the dogs iu the outer clearing. Zenobia rose lazily and strode to the window. It relieved Hale of certain embarrassing reflections suggested by her comment "If I it ain't that God-forsaken fool Dick bringing up passengers from the snow bound up stage in the road! I reckon I've got suthfn' to say to that!" But the later appeur anee of the apologetic Dick, wnn me ussurauee that the party carried a permission from her jgfcber, granted at the lower station in viwtl i^snch an emergency, checked her activo opposition. "That's like paw," she soliloquized nggnevedly; "shuttin' us up and settin' the dogs on everybody for a week, and then letting the whole stage service pass through one door and out at another. Well, it's his house and his whisky, and they kin take it, but they don't get me to help 'em." They certainly were not a prepossessing or good natural acquisition to the party. Apart from the natural antagonism which, on such occasions, those in possession always feel toward the new comer, they were strongly inclined to resist the dissatisfied querulousness and aggressive attitude of these fresh applicants for hospitality. The most offensive one was a inn-son who appeared to exercise some authority over the others. He was loud, assuming and dressed with vulgar pretension. He quickly disposed himself in the chair vacated by Zenobia, and called for some liquor. "I reckon you'll hev to help yourself," said Rawlins dryly, as the summons met with no response. "There are only two women in the house, and I reckon their hands are full already." ' "I call it d?d uncivil treatment," said the man, raising his voice; "and Hennicker had better sing smaller if he don't want his ( old den pulled down some day. He ain't any better than men that hev been picked up afore now." "You oughter told him that, and mebbe he'd hev come over with yer," returned Raw| lins. "He's a mild, soft, easy going man, is Hennicker! Ain't he, Col. Clinch?" The casual mention of Clinch's name pro1 duced the effect which the speaker probably intended. The stranger stared at Clinch, who, apparently oblivious of the conversation, was blinking his cold, gray eyes at the fire. Dropping his aggressive tone to mere querulousness, the man sought the whisky demijohn, and helped himself and his companions. Fortified by liquor he returned to the fire. "I reckon you've heard about this yer robbery, colonel," he said, addressing Clinch, with an attempt at easy familiarity. Without raising his eyes from the fire Clinch briefly nssented, "I reckon." "I'm up yer examining into it for the express." "Lost much?" asked Rawlins. "Not so much ez they might hev. That foel -Harkins had $100,000 in greenbacks sealed up like an ordinary package of $1,000, and gave it to a friend, Bill Guthrie, in the bank to pick out some unlikely chap among the passengers to take charge of it to Reno. He wouldn't trust the express. Ha! ha!" The dead, oppressive silence that followed his empty laughter made it seem almost artificial. Rawlins held his breath and looked at Clinch. Hale, with the instincts of a refined, sensitive man, turned hot with the embarrassment Clinch should have shown. For that gentleman, without lifting his eyes from the fire, and with no apparent change in his demeanor, la2ily asked: "Ye didn't ketch the name o' that passenger?" "Naturally, no! For when Guthrie hears what was said agin him he wouldn't give hii name until he heard from him." "And what was said agin him?" asked mnoinnrlxr VIIUVII "What would bo said agin a man that give up that sum o' money, like a chaw of tobacco, for the asking? Why, there were but three men, as far ez we kin hear, that did the job. And there were four passengers inside, armed, and the driver and express messenger on the box. Six were robbed by three!?they were a sweet scented lot! Reckon they must hev felt mighty small, for I hear they got up and skeduddled from the station under the pretext of lookin' for the robbers." He laughed again, and the laugh was noisily repeated by his five companions at the other end of the room. Hale, who had forgotten that the stranger was only echoing a part of his own criticism of eight hours before, was on the point of rising with burning cheeks and angry indignation, when the lazily uplifted eve of Clinch caught his, and absolutely held him down with its paralyzing and deadly significance. Mulder itself seemed to look from those cruelly quiet and remorseless gray pupils. For a moment ho forgot his own rage in this glimpse of Clinch's implacable resentment; for a moment he felt a thrill of pity for the wretch who had provoked it. 1 He remained motionless and fascinated in ' his chair as the lazy lids closed like a sheath ' over Clinch's eyes again. Rawlins, who had ' probably received the same glance of warn1 ing, remuincd equally still. "They haven't heard the last of it yet, you bet," continued the infatuated stranger. "I've got a little statement hero for the 1 newspaper," he added, drawing some papers from his pocket; "suthiu' I just run off in the coach as I came along. I reckon it'll show things up in a new light. It's time there should be some change. All the cussiu' that's been usually done hez been by the passengers agin the express and stago company. I propose that the company should do a little cussin' themselves. See? P'r'aps you don't mind my readin' it to ye? It's just spicy enough to suit them newspaper chaps." "Go on," said Col. Clinch quietly. The man cleared his throat, with the pre liminary pose of authorship, and his five friends, to whom the composition was evidently not unfamiliar, assumed anticipatory smiles. 1 "I call it 'Prize Pusillanimous Passengers.' Sort of runs easy off the tongue, you know. " 'It now appears that the success of the late stage coach robbery near the summit was ; largely due to the pusillanimity?not to use a more serious word'"? Pe stopped and 1 looked explanatorily toward Clinch: "Ye'll see in a minit what I'm gettin' at by that pusillanimity of the passengers themselves. 'It now transpires that there were only three robbers who attacked the coach, and that although passengers, driver and express mesj senger were fully armed and were double the i number of their assailants, not a shot was fired. We mean no reflections upon the wellknown courage of Yuba Bill, nor the experience and coolness of Braey Tibbetts, the courteous express messenger, both of whom have since confessed to have been more than astonished at the Christian and lamblike sub| mission of the insiders. Amusing stories of some laughable yet sickening incidents of the occasion?such as grown men kneeling in the road and offering to strip themselves completely if their lives were only spared; of one of the passengers hiding under the seat, and 1 only being dislodged by pulling his coat tails; of incredible sums promised, a^d even offers of menial service for the preservation of their wretched carcasses?are received with the greatest gusto; but we are in possession of facts which may lead to more serious accusations. Although one of the passengers is said to have lost a large sum of money intrusted to him, while attempting with barefaced effrontery to establish a rival "carrying" business in one of the express company's own coaches'?I call that a good point." He interrupted himself to allow the unrestrained applause of his own party. "Don't you?" "It's just h?11," said Clinch, musingly. "'Yet the affair,"' resumed the stranger, from his manuscript, " 'is locked up in great and suspicious mystery. The presence of Jackson N. Stanner, esq.' (that's me), 'special detective agent to the company, and his staff in town, is a guaranty that the mystery will be thoroughly probed.' Hed to put that in to please the company," he again deprecatingly explained. " 'We are indebted to this gentleman for the facts.' " "The pint you want to make in that article," said Clinch, rising, but still directing bis face and his conversation to the fire, "ez far ez I ken see, ez that no three men kin back down six unless they be cowards, or are willing to be backed down." "That's the point what I start from," rejoined Stanner, "and work up. I leave it to you ef it ain't so." "I can't say ez I agree with you," said the colonel dryly. He turned, and still without lifting his eyes walked toward the door of the room which Zenobia had entered. The key was on the inside, but Clinch gently opened the door, removed the key, and closing the door again locked it from his side. Hale and Rawlins felt their hearts beat quickly; the others followed Clinch's slow movements and downcast mien with amused curiosity. After locking the other outlet from the room and putting the keys in his pocket, Clinch returned to the fire. For the first time he lifted his eyes; the man nearest him shrank back in terror. "I am the man," he said slowly, taking de liberate breath between his sentences, "who gave up those greenbacks to the robbers. I am one of the three passengers you have lampooned in that paper, and these gentlemen beside me are the other two." He stopped and looked around him. "You don't believe that three men can back down six! Well, I'll show you how it can be done. More than that, I'll show you how one man can do it; for, by the living~God, if you don't hand over that paper I'll kill you where you sit! I'll give you until I count ten; if one of you moves he and you are dead men? but you first!" Before he had finished speaking Hale and Rawlins had both risen, as if in concert, with their weapons drawn. Hale could not tell how or why he had done so, but he was equally conscious, without knowing why, of fixing his eye on one of the other party, and that he should, in the event of an affray, try to kill him. He did not attempt to reason; ho only knew that he should do his best to kill that man and perhaps others. "One, " said Clinch, lifting his derringer, "two?three" "Look here, colonel?I swear I didn't know it was you. Come?d?n it! I say?see hero," stammered Stanner, with white cheeks, not daring to glance for aid to his stupefied party. "Pour?five?six" "Wait! Here!" He produced the paper and threri' it on the floor. "Pick it up and hand it to me. Seveneight" Stanner hastily scrambled to his feet, picked up the paper, and handed it to the 'coloneL "I was only joking, colonel," he said, with a forced laugh. "I'm glad to hear it. But as this joke is in black and white, you wouldn't mind saying so in the same fashion. Take that pen and ir and write as I dictate. '1 certiry tnat i "Take flint pen and paper and write as 1 dictate." am satisfied that the above statement is a base calumny against the characters of Ringwood Clinch, Robert Rawlins and John Hale, passengers, and that I do hereby apologize to the same.' Sign it. Tbat!,l do. Now let the rest of your party sign as witnesses." They complied without hesitation; some, seizing the opportunity of treating the affair as a joke, suggested a drink. "Excuse me," said Clinch quietly, "but ez this house ain't big enough for mo and that man, and ez I've got business at Wild Cat Station with this paper, I think I'll go without drinkin'." Ho took the keys from his pocket, unlocked the doors, and taking up bis overcoat and rifle turned as if to go. * [TO HE CONTINUED.] We talk exultingly of a "splendid charge," yet very few will think of the hideous particulars these two airy words stand for. The "splendid charge" is a headlong rush of men on horses urged to their fullest speed, riding down and overwhelming a mass of men on foot. The reader's mind goes no further, being content with the information that the enemy's line was "broken" and "gave way." It does not till up the picture. When the "splendid charge" has done its work, there will be found a sight very much like the scene of a frightful railway accident. There will be the full complement of broken backs; of arms twisted off; of men impaled on their own bayonets; of legs smashed up like bits of tirewood ; of heads crunched by iron hoofs of horses; of faces trampled out of all likeness to anything human; so the dismal catalogue runs on.? Charles Dickens. J8STEven the Holy Land is being deprived of all its picturesqueness. A big soap factory has been built where of old stood the town of Sechein; Bethlehem has been rebuilt and gas introduced, Nazareth has become the headquarters of a large company of olive oil speculators, Ciesarea is being rebuilt in modern style, Mount C'armel has been bought up by land speculators, a glue factory is going up at Bamoth Uilead, while Jerusalem has been delivered over to all sorts of occidental improvements, including clocks on the public buildings, a street-cleaning bureau, the Parisian fashion journals, and even an occasional bicycle and telephone. The world is being too rapidly civilized into a cosmopolitanism which leaves no room for individualism or picturesqueness. Dkad Enough.?Pat was finishing a story thus: "Shure an' he put the pistol to his head, pulled the thrigger, an' in a jiffy he was dead all the rest of his loife." ^Miscellaneous Reading. MILLARD FILLMORE'S LAST YEARS. Since the elevation of Grover Cleveland to the Presidency Buffalo prides herself upon being a political center of importance. Why not? It is no small thing in a political way to have a personal acquaintance with the President of the United States, and nearly everybody who amounts to anything in Buffalo knew Grover Cleveland. Yet it is not a new experience for Buffalo to have one of her citizens President. Itedpath tells you that Millard Fillmore was of New York, but history is too general; Fillmore was of Buffalo. Millard Fillmore was originally an obscure lawyer of the village of Aurora, Erie county, but subsequently came to Buffalo. He gradually became prominent in his profession, and from the first acted with the Whig party. He was sent to Congress, and when the office of State Comptroller was made elective he was nominated for it, and was th# first comptroller chosen by the people. While holding that office he was nominated for Vice-President on the ticket headed by General Zachary Taylor. Both wereelectedin 1848, owing to the split in the Democratic party by the Free Soil movement. Mr. Fillmore entered upon the duties of his new office on the 4th of March, 1849, and by the death of President Taylor in July, 1850, became President of the United States. Here I may mention a curious coincidence. When Tyler succeeded Harrison in 1841 Mr. Fillmore was in Congress. A debate arose over Tyler's title ; whether he should be called acting president upon the death of a president, or what not. It was strongly argued that he could not constitutionally become President; that there must be a distinction. Finally the opinion prevailed that he should hold the same title as if elected to the Office. Mr. .Fillmore took strong /wM/Min/1 in cumnAff n f tViia triOW lit tin glUUUU 1 &J ouppnv VI blliO T IV II ) liVilv dreaming that he would be the second to be promoted to the Presidency in this way. The events of his administration are of the history of the country. After his retirement from office in March, 1853, Mr. Fillmore made an extended European trip, and had not returned in 1856?the year of the Buchannan-Fremont campaign?when he was notified that he had been nominated for President by the Ararican Know Nothing party. Maryland was the only State of the Union to giye him her electoral votes. It is not politic in these days to talk of Know Nothingism. Millard Fillmore was a Whig, and had little confidence in his election by the American party. When his Buffalo friends gave him a serenade upon his return from Europe, he made a brief speech accepting the nomination. "These words," shouted a friend from below, "will make you President of the United States." The answer?"I hope so, sir, most sincerely"?was made the campaign cry of the Democrats and Free Soilers of Buffalo. As ex-President, Mr. Fillmore contracted a second marriage, his choice being the wealthy widow of one of the opposition candidate's purse holders. The contract of the marriage was drawn up by Nathan K. Hall, who was the ex-President's personal friend. It related, of course, to the second Mrs. Fillmore's personal estate. After the termination of the presidential contest Mr. Fillmore uvea nere in retirement, and was thoroughly esteemed by citizens regardless of party. He died in 1874, and was buried at Fort Lawn cemetery. He was of commanding presence, and, as one of his friends described him to me recently, a man few persons could pass on the street without turning to look back at. There was that about his gentle dignity that secured respect from unexpected sources, and few citizens met him out for a morning walk who did not lift their hats as a natural token of deference. He was, notwithstading his reserve, always ready to take part in any public event. The Fillmore mansion was one of the handsomest of palatial residences of Niagara square. It is now known as the Fillmore, but has degenerated to a fashionable boarding house. The landladies are sisters of a celebrated turfite of Couey island, Mrs. Fillmore died a few years ago, making liberal bequests to the Buffalo Fine Arts Academy, the Buffalo Historical Society, and local charities. Her private library was given intact to the Historical Society. Every volume contains her autograph. One of the park approaches, Fillmore avenue, was named in honor ol the departed ex-President, and the city is taking good care of it, having during the last season paved it with asphalt at a cost of $80,000. Mr. Fillmore was not considered a brilliant man; but he was cosidered deep, sound and logical. One of his chief local political opponents was a well known local character of that day, whom I will call Jones. It is related that their greatest word duel took place in a church at Abbott's Corners, being hotly contested for six hours. Dr. L. P. Dayton, who is a personal friend to the present occupant of the White House, heard it, and his idea was that Jones, on account of his remarkable brilliancy, got the better of the argument. Dr. Dayton told me a story about Jones which should be preserved. In the early days Buffalo's largest hall was the old court house on Lafayette square. A noted temperance orator from Albany was advertised to address a mass meeting in the afternoon, but failed to arrive. The * ' * - - 1,1 only man me committee cuuiu nuun. m who was equal to the emergency was this same Jones. They found him in his office lying on a couch, engaged in rubbing out of his head the effects of the previous night's hilarity. When the case was explained he poured out and swallowed a glass of brandy, and, leaning on the arms of his friends, made his way to the hall. For the first hour he dared not trust himself to loose his grasp on the speaker's table. But such was the power of his eloquence that after he had done speaking 1,500 persons signed the pledge, it is nol related whether the speaker signed or not, The late ex-President's son, Millard P, Fillmore, resides in Buffalo, and belongs to Tifft House Bachelors' club. President Cleveland and Cousin Ben. Folsom were both members of this club, and neither ever comes to Buffalo that he does not renew the old associations connected therewith. Powers Fillmore, as he is familiarly known, is a man over 50 years of age, and is said to be possessed of a fortune ample for all his needs. He does not practice law now, but President Cleveland, who undoubtedly knows him better than any one else, has often said that he possesses one of the brightest legal minds he has ever known. Mr. Fillmore is a man who lives on old associations, and of tlje hundreds who pass him daily in the lobby of the hotel, but few know who he is, or ever heard him speak. He cares for no new friends, but on his list of old ones he counts presidents, governors, senators, congressmen and judges of the higher courts. He is tall, gray headed, weighs 250 pounds, is not fond ol dress, and of late years has been abstemious in his habits. He cares more for a ?4 * i ? J f l-> or* nlrl frionrl quiei Ullitt auu n ujuuci Willi tin wiv? IIII.UU than anything else. The Little Children that are Gone.?Why do they come, these little ones that enter our homes by the gateway of suffering, and that linger with us a few months, uttering no words, smiling in a mysterious silence, yet speaking eloquently all'the time of the purity and sweetness of heaven ? Why must they open the tenderest fountains of our natures only to leave them so soon choked with the bitter tears of loss? It is impossible wholly to answer such questions of the tortured heart, hut one can say, in general that these temporary wanderers from a ! celestial home come and go because of the great love of God. It is an inestimable I blessing to have been the parent of a child that has the stamp of heaven upon its brow, to hold it in one's arms, to minister to it, to gaze fondly down into the little upturned face, and to rejoice in the unsullied beauty of its smiles, and then?to * give it back to God at his call, with the thought that in heaven, as upon earth, it is still our own child, a member of the household still, to be counted always as one of the children whom God hath given us. Such a love chastens and sanctifies the hearts of the father and mother, ear ! Fies them out beyond time and sense, and | give them a hold upon the unseen. As | things of great value always cost, it is I worth all the sorrows to have known this holy affection and to have treasure in heaven.?Chicago Advance. HOW IS YOuITCOOKING? The average families, both of town and country, do not live as well as they ought to do. There is a considerable amount of over-eating and under-nourishment. The preparations of the principal foods that support life and keep up the repairs of the body, is not as good as it ought to be. Take bread, for instance, and you will find half the housekeepers of the country make a very poor article. Even corn bread, in many families is a soggy, heavy mass, unfit to eat. Then the wads of baked dough, called biscuits, produce dys- , pepsia and bad tempers. A woman can display her inventive genius by making a half dozen different kinds of bread and rolls out of flour. Then with the corn meal and grits she can get up quite a variety. The country people have eggs, butter and milk, the very basis of all good cooking, and with the addition of su$ar they can get up an endless variety of side dishes and desserts. Children, especially, are pleased with variety. We do not exhort you to crowd a great variety on them at one meal. That is bad taste and will produce bad health. Grits, or hominy of 1 some sort, should be on every breakfast table. If it was possible to peep into every house in the county while the family is seated at the breakfast table, you would find the bill of fere about as fol lows: a little fried meat, coffee, biscuits, good, bad or indifferent, and perhaps mo1 lasses and butter. That goes on the year round. It gets very monotonous afterwhile and it is no wonder that some of the strong boys refuse to eat breakfast. When working people are hungry, it is a great mistake to attempt to fill them on fried Puke Air.?The season of the year is ; here in which doors and widows are usually closed, and the matter of pure air becomes one of serious importance. Du- -J ring the day, the air of living-rooms is pretty certain to be changed more or less by the frequent opening of outside doors. During the night, however, not infrequently all outside openings are tightly closed, and the occupants of sleepingrooms might almost as well place themselves for the eight or ten sleeping hours of night in an air-tight box. In the morning, persons who thus deprived themselves of life-giving oxygen, the great necessity of life, awake unre freshed and dispirited, languid, pale and weak, with headache, giddiness, no appetite, and many other symptoms of the foul air poisoning to which the system has been subjected. This accounts for a very large part of the colds and other forms of . physical wretchedness of which a good many complain at this season of the year, i , and which is ordinarily ascribed to the . change of season. The system is filled with impurities as a result of deficient ox- J 1 ygenation of the blood, and so the body i becomes in a high degree susceptible to all causes of vital disturbance. The reception of a few fever germs is all-sufficient to bring on a violent illness, by set ting fire to the fever-feeding material with which the tissues are filled as the result , of deficient air cleansing. i . Ventilation of living-rooms is of great importance at all times, but the supply ! oi an ample amount ot tresn air to sleeping rooms is doubly important during the . hours of sleep.?Health and Home. I ? -- oil* How to Live to Old Age.?In order to live to a good old age, says Dr. H. C. ! Wood, of Philadelphia, the several vital i organs must be approximately equal in . strength. A man of ordinary physique, i claims the authority quoted in Popular I Science Monthly, who possesses this fortu. nate balance of power, will in all proba- , bility outlive an athlete whose develf opment has been unequal. Excessive ! strength in one part is, in fact, a source ofv i danger. An over developed muscular sys; tern invites dissolution, because it is a constant strain upon the less powerful organs, . and finally wears them out. Death, in the majority of cases, is the result of local weakness. It often happens that a vital organ has been endowed with an original longevity less than that of the rest of the ! organism, and its failure to act brings" , death to other portions of the system, which in themselves possessed the capai bilities of long life. The fact of having succeded in life, with the satisfaction and comfort it brings, con! tributes to the prolongation of existence, while failure, with its resultant regrets, ; tends to shorten it. In old age the organs , possess less elasticity to meet and over. come such strains as can be invited with impunity in youth. Hence the old should i be spared the strains. It is also desirable that, as their years advance, they should make their personal habits the subject of ' careful study, and, with the help of some i wise counselor, regulate their life in accordance with the changed conditions of - their animal economy. This is partial*' S larly the case with reference to diet. Benefits of a Good Laugh.?Per' haps there is not the remotest corner or little inlet of the minute blood vessels of ! the body, says the Scientific Ar, fican, that i does not feel some wavelet from the . great convulsion produced by hearty r laughter shaking the central man. The blood moves more lively; probably its ' chemical, electric or vital conditions are | distinctly modified. It conveys adifferj ent impression to all the organs of the body, as it visits them on that particular ( mystic journey, when the man is laugh ing, from what it does at other times. . And thus it is that a good laugh lengthens ? * ?v? nnlo IiCa Kit nnn irnolnr* a anrl 1 a man o niu uj vuu v^jiug cv uiguuw u??v? additional stimulus to the vital forces; The time may come when physicians, attending more closely than they do now to the innumerable subtle influences which the soul exerts upon its tenement of clay,^ shall prescribe to the torpid patient, "so many peals of laughter to be undergone at such and such a time," just as tney do that far more objectionable prescription? a pill, or an electric or galvanic shock. meat and heavy, greasy biscuits. The boys come in from the fleld, and they are ravenous. They will bolt solid chunks of food. The careful mother should know something about the human stomach and its wants, and she should cook so as to meet these wants. The average man or woman eats too much solid food, such as meat, heavy bread and compounds into which much grease enters. We need more soups and broths, more preparations^ to be used with milk, such as mush, jjits, ; hominy, cooked fruits and the like. mere i should be a thousand fold more loaf bread I and light rolls. Fruit or vegetables should I be on the table every day. Fried meat, I , poor bread and coffee will never make very strong and healthy people. Let our I housekeepers begin to study economy and~fl get ready for lectures oil cooking when theM encampment is under way.?.StyartanbtiroM i Spartan. 53T It vhas saidt dot we live too fast, bat I we all know some men who vhastooshUwl . about dying.?Carl Duncler.