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t ^ ^ ^ ^ ISSUED SEMI-WEEKL^ L. M. orist'S^bohsT^Pnbiuhen. } % ^amiljj ggtcsgagfr: Jfor (hi; fromotion ojf the folitiimt, Social, ^gricullncal and (gommn;cial gnleresls of the jjeoBlt. _ {TERI.malffior?."wc^""'' ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, S. C., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 23, 19Q4. jSTO. 103. I DvTe By IRVING ] Author of "Eben Holden," " Ds c p (Copyright, 1101, by Lotlm CHAPTER L A poet may be a good companion, but, so far as I know, he is ever the worst of fathers. Even as grandfather he is too near, for one poet can lay a streak of poverty over three generations. Doubt not I know whereof I speak, dear reader,.for my mother's father was a poet?a French poet, too, whose lines had crossed the Atlantic long before that summer of 1770 when he came to Montreal. He died there, leaving only debts and those who had great need of a better legacy?my mother and grandmother. I As to my father, he had none of that fatal folly in him. He was a mountaineer of Vermont?a man of steely sinews that took well to the grip of a sword. He cut his way to fame in the northern army when the British came first to give us battle, and a bloody way it was. I have now a faded letter from Ethan Allen, grim old warrior, in which he calls my father "the best swordsman that ever straddled a horse." He was a "gallous chap" in his youth, so said my grandmother, with a great love of good clothes and gunpowder. He went to Montreal, as a boy, to be educated; took lessons in fencing, fought a duel, ran away from school, and came home with little learning and a wife. Punished by disinheritance, he took a farm, and left the plow to go into battle. I wonder often that my mother could put up with the stress and hardship of his life, for she had had gentle breeding, of which I knew little until I was grown to manhood, when I came to know also what a woman will do for the love of her heart. I remember well those tales of knights and ladles she used to tell me as we sat together of an evening, and also those adventures of her own knight, my good father, in the war with the British. My love of arms and of a just quarrel - began then. After the war came hard times. My father had not prospered handsomely, when, near the end of the summer of 1803, he sold his farm, and we all started west, over rough trails and roadways. There were seven or.us, bound for the valley of the St Lawrence?my father and mother, my two sisters, my grandmother. D'rl, the hired man. and myself, then a sturdy boy of ten. We had an ox-team and cart that carried our provision, the sacred feather beds of my mother, and some faw other thing*. ? _ - ' We drove with us the first flock of sheep that ever went west. There were 40 of them, and they filled our days with trouble. But for our faithful dog Rover, I fear we should have lost heart and left th^n to the wild wolves. The cart had a low cover of canvas, and my mother and grandmother sat on the feather beds, and rode with small comfort even where the roads were level. My father let me carry my little pet rooster In a | basket that hung from the cart-axle | when not In my keeping. The rooster had a harder time than any of us. I j fancy, for Uie days were hot and the roads rough. He was always panting, with open mouth and thoughtful eye. when I lifted the cover. But every day lie ga\ e us an example of cheerful- j ness not wholly without effect He crowed triumphantly, betimes. In the hot basket, even when he was being tumbled about on the swamp ways. Nights I always found a perch for him on ihe limb of a tree, above the reach of predatory creatures. Every morning, as the dawn showed faintly in the tree-tops, he gave it a lusty cheer, flapping his wings with all the seeming of delight. Then, often, while the echo rang. I would open my eyes and watch ihe light grow in the dusky cavern of the woods. He would sit dozing awhile after the first outbreak, i ana presently as the flood of light grew ( clearer, lift himself a little, take another peep at the sky, and crow again, turning his head to hear those weird, mocking roosters of the timber-land. Then, shortly. I would hear my father poking the fire or saying, as he patted the rooster: "Sass 'em back, ye noisy little brat! Thet's right; holler. Tell TVri It's time t' bring some wood fer the fire." In a few minutes the pot and kettle would be boiling and the camp all astir. We had trout and partridge and venison a-plenty for our meals, that were served in dishes of tin. Breakfast over, we packed our things. The cart went on ahead, my father bringing the oxen, while I started the sheep with D'ri. Those sheep were as many thorns In our flesh that day we made ofT in the deep woods from Lake Champlain. Travel was new to them, and what with tearing through thickets and running wild in every slash, they kept us Jumping. When they were leg-weary and used to travel, they began to go quietly. But slow work it was at best, 10 or 12 miles a day being all we could do, for the weather was hot and our road like the way of the transgressor. Our second night in the woods we could hear the wolves howling as we cumped at dusk. We built our fire near the shore of a big pond, its still water framed in the vivid green of young 'amaracks. A great hill rose oa the farther side of it, with galleri?s of timber sloping to the summit, aud peopled with many birds. We huddled the sheep together in a place where ta? trees were thick, while father tKo.j?:Lt froui the cart l to.'l cf smaU ope. We wound it about the trees, r- so the sheep were shut in a little yard. y After supper we all sat by the flre, f while D'ri told how he had been chased A by wolves in the beaver country north of his own way of expressing the three degrees of wonder, admiration and B surprise. "Jerushy!"?accented on the second syllable?was the positive, "Jeruehy Jane!" the comparative, and bHr X "Jerushy Jane Pepper!" the superlative. Who that poor lady might be jRll I often wondered, but never ventured to inquire. In times of stress I have heard him swear by "Judas Priest," iliiilL but never more profanely. In. .his ind 1 ^ 9ACHELLER irrel of the Blessed Isles," Etc. >p PublUhlng Company.) youth he had"been a sailor on the lake, when some artist of the needle had tattooed a British jack on the back of his left hand?a thing he covered, of shame now, when he thought of it His right hand had lost its forefinger in a sawmill. His rifle was distinguished by the name of Beeswax? "01' Beeswax" he called It sometimes? for no better reason than that it was "easy spoke an' had a kind uv a powerful soun' tew it." He had a nose like a shoemaker's thumb: there was a deep curve from Its wide tip to his forehead. He had a large, gray, inquiring eye and the watchful habit of the woodsman. Somewhere in the midst of a story he would pause and peer thoughtfully Into the distance, "D'RI PULLED UP SUDDENLY-AND LISTENED, PEERING INTO THE DUSK." meanwhile feeling the pipe-stem with his lips, and then resume the narrative as suddenly as he had stopped. He was a lank and powerful man, six feet tall in his stockings. He wore a thin beard that bad the appearance of parched grass on his ruddy countenance. In the matter of hair, nature had treated him with a generosity most unusual. His heavy Bhock was sheared off square above his neck. That evening, as he lay on his elbow in the firelight, Dri had jnst entered the eventful field of reminiscence. The women were washing the dishes; my father had gone to the spring for water. D'ri pulled up suddenly, lifted his hat of faded felt and listened, peering into the dusk. "Seems t' me them wolves is comin' nearer," he said, thoughtfully. Their cries were echoing in the far timber. We all rose and listened. In a moment my father came hurrying back with his pail of water. "D'ri," said" he, quietly, as he threw some wood on the fire, "they smell mutton. Mek the guns ready. We may git a few pelts. There's a big bounty on 'em here in York state." We all stood about the fire listening as the wolves came nearer. "It 's the sheep thet brings 'em," said my father. "Quite a consid'able number on 'em, tew," said D'ri, as he stood cleaning the bore of his rifle. My young sisters began to cry. "Need n't be scairt," said father. "They won't come very near. 'Fraider of us 'n we are o' 'ein. a good deal." "Tow-w-w!" said D'ri, with a laugh. "They'll be apt t' stub ther toes 'fore they git very nigh us." This did not quite agree with the tales he had previously been telling. I went for my sworci, and buckled its belt about me, the scabbard hanging to my heels. Presently some creature came bounding over the brush. I saw him break through the wall of darkness and stop quickly in the firelight. Then D'ri brought him down with his rifle. "Started him up back there 'n the woods a few mild," snkl D'ri. "He was mekin' fer this 'ere pond?thet's what he was dewin'." What rorr 1 inquired. 'Cause fer the reason why he knowed he would n't mek no tracks 'n the water, ner no scent," said D'rl, with some show of contempt for my igrorance. The deer lay floundering in the briers some 50 feet away. My father ran with his knife and put him quickly out of misery. Then we hauled the carcass to clear ground. "Let it lie where't is fer now," said he, as we came back to the fire. Then he got our two big traps out of the cart and set them beside the carcass and covered them with leaves. .The howling of the wolves had ceased. I could hear only the creaking of a dead limb high above us, and the bellow of frogs in the near pond. We had fastened the trap chains and were coming back to the fire, when the dog rose, barking fiercely; then we heard the crack of D'ri's rifle. "More 'n 50 wolves eroun' here," he whispered as we ran up to him. "Never see seen a snng on em. The sheep were sttrring nervously. Near the pen a wolf Jay kicking where D'ri had dropped him. "Rest on 'em snooked ofT when the gun hollered," he went on, whispering as before. My mother and grandmother sat with my sisters in the cart, hushing their murmurs of fear. Early in the evening I had tied Rover to the cartwheel, where he was growling hotly, impatient of the leash. said D'ri, pointing *>ith his finger. "See 'em??there 'n the dark by thet air big hemlock." We could make out a dim stir in the shadows where he pointed. Presently we beard the spring and rattle of a trap. As we turned that way, the other trap took hold hard; as it sprang we could hear a wolf yelp. "Meks 'em holler," said D'ri, "thet ol' hetrap does, when it teks holt. Stay here by the sheep, 'u' I'll go oyer 'n' glre 'em somethln' fer spraint ankles." Other wolves were 'swarming over the dead deer, and the two in the traps were snarling and snapping at them. My father and D'ri fired at the bunch, killing one of the captives and another ?the largest wolf I ever saw. The pack had slunk away as they heard the rifles. Our remaining captive struggled to get free, but in a moment D'ri had brained him with an ax. He and my father reset our traps and hauled the dead wolves into the firelight There they began to skin them, for the bounty was $10 for each in the new towns?a sum that made our adventure profitable. I built fires on the farther side of the sheep, and, as they brightened, I could see, here and there, the ?io?min? avar of a wolf in the dark- I ness. I was up all night heaping wood upon the fires, while D'rl and my father skinned the wolves and dressed the deer. They had Just finished when the cock crew. "Holler, ye gol-dum little cuss!" D'ri shouted as he went over to him. I "Can't no snookin' wolf crack our bones fer us. Peeled 'em?thet's what we done tew 'em! Tuk 'n' knocked 'em , head over heels. Judas Priest! He | can peck a man's finger some, can't he?" The light was coming and he went off to the spring for water, while I . brought the spider and pots. The grtat, green-roofed temple of the woods, that had so lately rung with the howl of wolves, began to fill with far wandering echoes of sweet song. "They was a big cat over there by the spring las' night," said D'ri, as we all sat down to breakfast. "Tracks bigger 'n a griddle! Smelt the mutton, mos' likely." "Like mutton?" I inquired. "Yis-sir-ee, they dew," said he. "Kind o' mince-pie fer 'em. Like deer meat, tew. Snook eroun' the ponds after dark. Ef they see a deer 'n the water they wallop 'im quicker 'n lightnin'; jump right in k'slap 'n' tek 'lm." We were off at sunrise, on a road thai grew rougher every mile. At noon we came to a river so swollen as to make a dangerous ford. After dinner my father waded in, going hips under where the water was deep and swift. Then he cut a long pole and took my mother on his shoulders and entered the broad stream, steadying himself with the pole. When she had got down safe on the other side, he came back for grandmother and my sisters, and took them over in the same way. D'ri, meanwhile, bound up the feather ' ? ? J t ?J All kio KqQ/1 ueus aiiu uamcu iucui un u>o u u, leaving the dog and me to tend the sheep. All our blankets and clothing were carried across in the same man ner. Then I mounted the cart, with my rooster, lashing the oxen till they took to the stream. They had tied the bell-wether to the axle, and, as I started, men and dog drove the sheep after me. The oxen wallowed in the deep water, and our sheep, after some hesitation, began to swim. The big cart floated like a raft part of the way, and we landed with no great difficulty. Farther on the road became nothing better than a rude trail, where, frequently, we had to stop and chop through heavy logs and roll them away. On a steep hillside the oxen fell, breaking the tongue, and the cart tipped sidewise and rolled bottom up. My rooster was badly flung about, and began crowing and flapping as the basket settled. When I opened it he flew out, running for his life, as if finally resolved to quit us. Fortunately, we were all walking, and nobody was hurt. My father and D'ri were busy half a day "righting up," as they called It. mending the tongue and cover, and getting the cart on its wheels and down the steep pitch. After two days of trail travel we came out on the Chateaugay road, stopping awhile to bait our sheep and cattle on tne tame grass ana lenuer briars. It was a great joy to see the clear road, with here and there a settler's cabin, its yard aglow with the marigold, the hollyhock and the fragrant honeysuckle. We got to the tavern at Chateaugay about dusk and put up for the night, as becomes a Christian. Next afternoon we came to rough roads again, camping at sundown along the shore of a noisy brook. The dog began to bark fiercely while supper was making, and scurried off into a thicket. D'ri was stooping over, cooking the meat He rose and listened. "Thet air dog's a leetle scairt," sa/J he. "Guess we better go 'n' see whut 's the matter." He took his rifle and I my sword?> I never thought of another weapon? making off through the brush. The dog came whining to D'ri and rushing on, eager for us to follow. We hurried after him, and in a moment D'ri and the dog, who were ahead of me, halted suddenly. "It's a painter," said D'ri, as I came up. "See 'im in thet air tree-top. I'll larrup 'im with 01' Beeswax, then jes' like es not he'll mek some music. Better grab holt o' the dog. 'T won't dew fer 'im to git tew rambunctious, er the fust thing he knows he won't hev no insides in 'im." I could see the big cat clinging high in the top boughs of a birch and * 1 - * ? ? 'i -- J'vww n* no TVin trop. lUUKing tanuijf uunu si uo. a v.~~ top swayed, quivering, as It held the great dun beast My heart was like to smother me when D'ri raised his rifle and took aim. The dog broke away at the crack of it. The painter reeled and spat; then he came crashing through the branches, striking right and left with his fore paws to save himself. He hit the ground heavily, and the dog was on him. The painter lay as if dead. Before I could get near. Rover began shaking him by the neck. He came to suddenly, and struck the dog with a front claw, dragging him down. A loud yelp followed the blow. Quick as a flash D'ri caught the painter by the tail and one hind leg. With a quick surge of his great, slouching shoulders, he flung him at arm's-length. The lithe body doubled on a tree trunk, quivered, and sank down, as the dog came free. In a jiffy I had run my sword through the cat's belly and made an end of him. "Knew 'f he got them hind hooks on thet air dog he'd rake his ribs right off," said D'ri, as he lifted his hat to scratch his head. "Would n't 'a' left nothin' but the backbone?nut a thing?an' thet would n't 'a' been a real fust-class one, nuttaer." When D'ri was very positive, his words were well braced with negatives. We"took tne painter "by the hind leg* I and dragged him through the bushed to our camp. The dog had a great rip across his shoulder, where the clawa had struck and made furrows; but he felt a mighty pride in our capture, and never had a better appetite for a meat There were six more days of travel In that Journey?travel so fraught with hardships, I wonder that some days we had the heart to press on. More than all. I wonder that the frail body of my mother was equal to It But I am writing no vain record of endurance. I have written enough to suggest what moving meant in the wilderness. There is but one more color in the scenes of that journey. The fourth day after we left Chateau^ gay my grandmother fell ill and died suddenly there in the deep woods. Wd were far from any village, ana sorrow slowed our steps. We pushed on, coming soon to a sawmill and a small setP tlement They told us there neither minister nor undertaker wlttsin 40 miles. My father and D'ri macft the coffin of planed lumber, and lined it with deerskin, and dug the grave on top of a high hill. When all was ready, my father, who had always been much given to profanity, albeit I know he was a kindly and honest man witi no irreverence in his heart, called D'li aside. "D'ri," said ^e. "ye 've alwus been more proper-spoken than I hev. Say a word o* prayer?" I "Don't much b'lieve I could," saift he, thoughtfully. "I hev been t' meetin', but I hain't never been no great hand fer pra>in'." "T would n't sound right nohow fer me t' pray," said my father, "I got tf kind o' rough when I was in the army.* " 'Fraid it'll come a leetle unhandy* fer me," said D'ri, with a look of embarrassment, "but I don't never shirk a tough Job ef it hes t' be done." * Then he stepped forward, took of his faded hat, his brow wrinkling dee|i, and said, in a drawling preacher tone that had no sound of D'ri in it: "0 God, tek care o' gran'ma. Helfl us t' go on careful an' when we 're riled, help us t' keep er mouths shet 0 God, help the ol' cart, an' the ex in pertic'lar. An' don't be noway hard on us. Amen." CHAPTER II. June was half over when we came to our new home in the town oif Madrid?then a home only for the foxes and the fowls of the air and their wild kin of the forest The road ran through a little valley thick wltl timber and rock-bound within a mile of us, all comfortably settled in small log houses. For temporary use we built a rude bark shanty that had a partition of blankets, living in this primitive manner until my father and D'ri had felled the timber and built a log house. We brought flour from Malone?a dozen sacks or more?and I ?- ii T U 4a wane iney were uuuuiug r uau -v "Bupply my mother with "flsh and game and berries for the table?a thing easy enough to do In that land of plenty. When the logs were cut and hewn I went away, horseback, to Canton for a jug of rum. I was all day and half the night going and coming, and fording the Grasse took me Btlrrups under. Then the neighbors came to the raising?a Jolly company that shouted "Hee, oh, hee!" as they lifted eacn heavy log to Its place and grew noisier quaffing the odorous red rum, that had a mighty good look to me, although my father would not hear of my tasting it. When it wa3 all over there was nothing to pay but our gratitude. While they were building bunks I went off to sawmill with the oxen for boards and shingles. Then, shortly, we had a roof over us and floors to walk on and that luxury D'rl called a "pyaz," although It was not more than a mere shelf with a roof over it. We chinked the logs with moss and clay at first, putting up greased paper in tbe window spaces. For months we knew not the luxury of the glass pane. That summer we "changed work" with the neighbors and after we had helped them awhile they turned to in the clearing of our farm. We felled the trees in long, bushy windrows, heaping them up with brush and small wood when the chopping was over. That done, we flred the rows, filling the deep of heaven with smoke, as it seemed to me, and lighting the night with great billows of flame. By raid-autumn we had cleared to the stumps a strip half down the valley from our door. Then we turned to on the land of our neighbors, my time counting half, for I was sturdy and could swing the ax to a line, and felt a Joy in seeing the chips fly. But my father kept an eye on me, and held me back as with a leash. My mother was often sorely tried for the lack of things common as dirt these better days. Frequently our only baking-powder was white lye, made by dropping ash-cinders into water. Our cinders were made by letting the sap of green timber drip into hot ashes. Often deer's tallow, bear's grease, or raccoon's oil served for shortening, and the leaves of the wild raspberry for tea. Our neighbors went to mill at Canton?a journey of Ave days, going and coming, with an ox team, and beset with many difficulties. Then one of them hollowed the top of a stump for his mortar and tied his pestle to the bough of a tree. With a rope he drew the bough down, which, as it sprang back, lifted the pestle that ground his grain. But money was the rarest of all thinvc in mir npiehhorhood those days. Ptarlash, black-salts, West India pipestaves and rafts of timber brought cash, but no other products of the early settler. Late that fall ?ny mother gave a dance, a rude but hearty pleasuring that followed a long conference in which my father had a part. They all agreed to turn to, after snowfall, on the river-land, cut a raft of timber, and send it to Montreal in the spring. Our things had come, including D'ri's fiddle, so that we had chairs and bedsteads and other accessories of life not common among our neighbors. My mother had a few jewels and some fine old furniture that her father had given her?really beautiful things, I have since come to know?and she showed them to those simple folk with a mighty pride in her eyes. Business over, D'ri took down his fiddle, that hung on the wall, and made the strings roar as he tuned them. Tben he threw his long right leg over the other, and, as he drew the bow, his big foot began to pat the floor a good pace away. His chin lifted, his fingers flew, his bow quickened, the rv 'S ?5^a^'%^'jNuV* ."^/ "MY MOTHER GAVE ME ALL THE SCHOOLING I HAD THAT WIN TICK." notes 'seemed to whirl and scurry, light-footed as a rout of fairies. Meanwhile the toe of his right boot counted the increasing tempo until It came up and down like a ratchet. Darius Olin was mostly of a slow and sober manner. To cross his legs and feel a fiddle seemed to throw his heart open and put him in full gear. Then his thoughts were Quick, his eyes merry, his heart was a fountain of joy. He would lean forward, swaying his head, and shouting "Yip!" as the bow hurried. D'ri was a hardworking man, but the feel of the fiddle warmed and limbered him from toe to finger. He was over-modest, making light of his skill if he ever spoke of it, and had no ear for a compliment While our elders were dancing I and others of my age were playing games in the kitchen?kissinggames with a rush and tumble in them, purs-in-the-corner, hunt-the-squirrel, and the like. Even then I thought I was in love with pretty Rose Merrlroan. She would never let me kiss her, even though I had caught her and had the right. My mother gave me all the schooling I had that winter. A year later they built a schoolhouse, not quite a mile away, where I found more fun than learning. After two years I shouldered my ax and went to the river-land with the choppers every winter morning. Mv father was stroneer than anv of them except D'ri, who could drive his x to the bit every blow, day after day. He had the strength of a giant, and no man I knew tried ever to cope with him. By the middle of May we began rolling in for the raft As soon as- they were floating, the logs were wlthed together and moored in sections. The bay became presently a quaking, redolent plain of timber. When we started the raft, early In June, that summer of 1810, and worked It into the broad river with sweeps and poles, I was aboard with D'ri ?ad six other men, bound for the big city of which I had heard so much. I was to visit the relatives of my mother and spend a year In the College de St. Pierre. We had a little fraaa? bouse on a big platform, back of the middle section of the raft, with bunks In it, where we ate and slept and told stories. Lying on the platform there was a large flat stone that held our tires for both cooking and comfort. D'ri called me in the dusk of the early morning, the flrst night out, and said we were near the Sault. I got up, rubbed my eyes, and felt a mighty thrill as I heard the roar of the great rapids and the creaking withes, and felt the lift of the speeding waters. D'ri said they had broken the raft into three parts, ours being hindmost. The roaring grew louder, until my shout was as a whisper in a hurricane. The logs began to heave and fall, and waves came rushing through them. Sheets of spray shot skyward, coming down like a shower. We were shaken ? ? Lnno 1-n In fKo rntitrK wq. ttB Uy ttU cat luv^uang iu vuq ivudm .. m ter. Then the roar fell back of us, and the raft grew steady. "Gin us a tough twist," said D'rl, shouting down at me?"kind uv a twist o' the bit 'n' a kick 'n the Ride." It was coming daylight as we sailed Into still water, and then D'rl put his hands to his mouth and hailed loudly, getting an answer out of the gloom ahead. "Gol-dum ef it hain't the power uv a thousan' painters!" D'rl continued, laughing as he spoke. "Never see nothin' jump 'n' kick 'n spit like thet air, 'less it hed fur on?never 'n all my born days." D'rl's sober face showed dimly now in the dawn. His hands were on his hips; his faded felt hat was tipped sideways. His boots and trousers were quarreling over that disputed territory between his knees and ankles. His boots had checked the invasion. "Smooth water now," said he, thoughtfully. "Seems terribly still. Hain't a breath uv air stirrin'. Jerushy Jane Pepper! Wha' does thet mean?" He stepped aside quickly as some bits of bark and a small bough of hemlock fell at our feet. Then a shower of pine needles came slowly down, scattering over us and hitting the timber with a faint hiss. Before we could look up a dry stick as long as a log fell rattling on the platform. "Never seen no sech doin's afore," said D'ri, looking upward. "Things don't seem t' me t* be actin' eggzac'ly nat'ral?nut Jest es I'd like t' see 'em." As the light came clearer, we saw tioonoH hlnplr gnii hlne nver the tiUUUO livuj/^u M?ww? tree-tops in the southwest. We stood a moment looking. The clouds were heaping higher, pulsing with light, roaring with thunder. What seemed to be a flock of pigeons rose suddenly above the far forest, and then fell as if they had all been shot. A gust of wind coasted down the still ether, fluttering like a rag and shaking out a few drops of rain. ? "Look there!" I shouted, pointing aloft. "Hark!" said D'ri, sharply, raising his hand of three Angers. We could hear a far sound like that of a great wagon rumbling on a stony road. "The Almighty's whippin' his hosses," said D'ri. "Looks es ef he was plungin' 'em through the woods 'way yonder, Look a' thet air sky." . The cloud-masses were looming rap Idly. They had a glow like" that of copper. "Tryln' to put a ruf on the world," my companion shouted. "Swlngln' ther hammers hard on the rivets." A little peak of green vapor showed above the sky-line. It loomed high as we looked. It grew into a lofty column, reeling far above the forest Below It we could see a mlghy heaving in the tree-tops. Something like an immense bird was hurtling and pirouetting in the air above them. The tower of green looked now like a great daring bucket hooped with fire and overflowing with darkness. Our ears were full of a mighy voice out of the heavens. A wind came roaring down some tideway of the air like water In a flume. It seemed to tap the sky. Before I could gather my thoughts we were in a torrent of rushing air, and the raft had begun to heave and toes. I felt D'rl take my hand in his. I l/l lust ana Mo faoa for IhA mnrnlnf had turned dark suddenly. His Hps were moving, but I could hear nothing he said. Then he lay flat, pulling me down. Above and around all the noises that ever came to the ear of man?the beating of drums, the bellowing of cattle, the crash of falling trees, the shriek of women, the rattle of machinery, the roar of waters, the crack of rifles, the blowing of trumpets, the braying of asses, and sounds of the like of which I had never heard and pray God I may not hear again, one I and then another dominating the mighty chorus. Behind us, in the gloom, I could see, or thought I could see, the reeling mass of green ploughing the water, like a ship with chains of gold flashing over bulwarks of fire. In a moment something happened of which I have never had any definite notion. I felt the strong arm of D'rl clasping me tightly. I heard the thump and roll and rattle of logs heaping above us; I felt the water washing over me; but I could see nothing. I knew the raft had doubled; It would fall and grind our boniw: but I made no effort to save myself. And thinking how helpless I felt is the last I remember of the great windfall of June 3, 1810, the path of which may be seen now, 50 years after that memorable day, and 1 suppose It will be visible long after my bones have crumbled. 1 thought I had been sleeping when I came to; at least, I had dreamed. I was In some place where it was dark and still. I could hear nothing but the drip of water; I could feel the arm of D'rl about me, and I called to him, and then I felt him stir. "Thet you, .lay?" said he, lifting his bead. "Yes," I answered. "Where are we?" "Judas Priest! I ain" no idee. Jes' woke up. Been a-layin' here tryin' t' think. Ye hurt?" "Guess not," said I. "Ain't ye got no pains or aches nowhere 'n yer body?" "Head aches a little," said I. ~~ He rose to his elbow, and made a light with his flint and tinder, and looked at me. "Got a eoose-egg on yer for*ard," I said he, and then I saw there was blood on his (ace. "Ef it hed n't been fer the withes they 'd 'a' ground us t* powder." Wo were lying alongside the little house, and the logs were leaning to it above us. "Jeruehy Jane Pepper!" D'ri exclaimed, rising to his kness. "'S whut I call a twister." He began to whittle a piece of the splintered platform. Then he lit a shaving. "They's ground here," said he, as he began to kindle a fire, "ground a-plenty right under us." The firelight gave us a good look at our cave under the logs. It was about 10 feet long and probably as high. The logs had crashed through the side of the house in one or two places, and its roof was a wreck. "Hungry?" said D'ri, as he broke a piece of board on his knee. "Yes," I answered. "So 'm I," said he, "hungrier 'n a she-wolf. They's some bread 'n' ven'son there 'n the house; we better try t' git "em." An opening under ihe logs let me around the house corner to its door. I was able to work my way through the latter, although it was choked with heavy timbers. Inside I could hear the wash of the river, and through its shattered window on the farther wall I could see between the heaped logs a glow of sunlit water. I handed our ax through a break in the wall, and then D'ri cut away some of the baseboards and joined me. We had our meal cooking in a few minutes? our dinner, really, for D'ri said It was near noon. Having eaten, we crawled out of the window, and then D'ri began to pry the logs apart "Ain't much 'fraid o' their tumblin' on us," said he. "They 're wfthed so they '11 stick together." We got to another cave under the logs, at the water's edge, after an hour of crawling and prying. A side of the raft was in the water. "Got t' dive,' said D'ri, "an* swim fer daylight." A long swim it was, but we came up In clear water, badly out of breath. We swam around the timber, scrambling over a dead cow, and up-shore. The ruined raft was torn and tumbled into a very mountain of logs at the edge of the water. The sun was shin ing clear, and the air was sun. uimDs of trees, bits of torn cloth, a broken hay-rake, fragments of wool, a wagonwheel, and two dead sheep were scattered along the shore. Where we had seen the whirlwind coming, the sky was clear, and beneath It was a great gap In the woods, with ragged walls of evergreen. Here and there In the gap a stub was standing, trunk and limbs naked. "Jerushy Jane Pepper!" D'rl exclaimed, with a pause after each word. "It 's cut a swath wider 'n this river. Don't b'lieve a mouse could 'a' lived where the timber's down over there." Our sweepers and the other sections of the raft were nowhere 1n sight. TO BE OONTINUICD. *=9"The deserving poor are often those who don't deserve to be poor. .iW The latest museum freak Is a pig with two legs. Outside a museum it Isn't necessary to have four legs to be a hog. <UT When a high-salaried office finds It necessary to seek the man you may expect to see thieves trying to break Into Jail. mm BROADSIDE. Says Oil Men Bribed Courts With $5,000,000. MURK DAMAUK SUIT REVELATIONSThe Terrible Man From Boeton Exposes the Criminality of His Former Confederates, and Defies Them to Do Their Worst. ! New York American, Wednesday. Despite the threat of the attorneys for H. H. Rogers to prosecute the managers of the American Press Association if they circulated the magazine containing Lawson's January in stalment of "Frenzied Finance," and the similar warning to the publishers of the magazine, the periodical came out 9yesterday with the most direct and violent charges of the Lawson series. The Boetonlan accuses men of supposed standing of forthright crime ?bribe-giving and bribe-taking?going Into all the details. Not only was the publication circulated In the usual way, but It was peddled on the streets by the newsboys, and nowhere more plentifully than In Wall street. And up to date there has been no action following the threats of criminal libel. Lawson said last night none Is contemplated, so far as he knows. If v.*son's statements In this Inst ....lent are not facts there are a dozen libels on every page. In 'winding up his story of the Bay State Oas deal, for Instance, Lawson tells of a campaign fund of $5,000,000 raised to I defeat Bryan. Something like $176,000 was required to be paid In a transaction, of which Lawson quotes himself as saying: "The question is, how to get Rogers to advance so large a sum in su>.:h a ticklish business? He does not want *o get mixed up in a matter in which any one man's treachery might mean state's prison." Continuing Lawson writes: "Rogers refused absolutely to be a party to any payment that could be traced back to him. He canvassed the sources of hazard; first, through treachery; he might be accused of bribing a court officer, he might be blackmailed by being charged with conspiracy, or a conspiracy charge might be brought by Bay State stockholders, and he be held for tremendous damages. He refused to put himself Into any such trap. I put forward a dozen ways to meet the emergency, but he would have nono of them. Finally he suggested a mi tnoa which was certainly perfect o." Its kind. Republican Machine Used. This scheme was simply to pay the alleged bribe Into the Republican tampalgn fund and when It was distributed In the effort to carry Delaware for Addlcks the money would be steered Into the hands for which it was Intended. Lawson continues: "Having clearly set forth the political situation through which we should be saved, Mr. Rogers proceeded to map out my own programme. Firs ^ I must perfect an alibi for him; next, I must convince Addlcks to the same effect, and In addition tell him that Mr. Rogers had angrily refused to get into the mlx-up; that I should then hold myself In readiness to meet Johp Moore and Hanna or Osborne as soon as an appointment could be arranged. That afternoon I got the word and went to No. 26 Broadway, and from there Mr. Rogers and I went over to John Moore's office, slipping in the private door from the rear street. " 'John,' said Mr. Rogers, 'I am going to turn this matter over to you and Lawson. and I am to have nothing to do with It. What you two agree to will be satisfactory to me, and remember, both of you, every dollar that Is paid Is paid by the National committee. but after it's all settled, and if there Is no slip-up, I will look to Lawson for whatever Is expended. Is It understood?" Addicks in Adversity. Lawson also gives a picture of "Gas" Addlcks In adversity that Is as lurid a thing as has been displayed for a long time. They were trying to reorganize Bay State Gas. Six million dollars was to be raised and delivered tc H. H. Rogers In exchange for certain securities. Lawson continues: "It was a period of unremitting effort, but the prospects of success were excellent. Addlcks had got ready a new lot of Bay State stock and I had prepared the public to take It. With he proceeds of this stock and the securities which Rogers would turn over to us we should have money enough to meet our engagements, always jjrovided no slip-up occurred * * * Our relations with Rogers had been satisfactory?I should say my relationr for he persistently kept Addlcks and his crowd at a distance. "At the very moment our position and prospects seemed most secure a trap was being set. "It became necessary for me to have frequent conferences with Addicks and his directors, and we opened headTuarters at the Hoffman House In New York, xi was my naun iv wiuc w. for a short time every week, and then we grot together, reported progress, and discussed future moves. The Blow Falls. "It was at one of these gatherings, on Friday. Oct. 16, that the blow fell. I had come down on the midnight train from Boston and was brimming over with pleasant news and agreeable anticipations. In the parlor of Addicks's suite at the Hoffman the directors were gathered when I entered, and with them was Parker Chandler, the Bay State's general counsel. We got down to business at once. I told them how well our affairs were moving in Boston and listened to the tidings they had to tell of progress elsewhere. We were ail In the merry mood of success. "The telephone, bell rang. Some one wanted Addicks quick. "Addlcks stepped to the instrument. We all heard him say, 'Hello.' Then, 'Is that you Fred?' (Fred Keller was his personal secretary). Then, 'Yes, 1 1 hear you plainly. Repeat it.' Then, a minute's wait, while he listened. Then i 'When will they get up there?' Then - 'Send every one home, lock up and gc ; over to the house, and call me on mj wire.' All this in his ordinary, well attuned, even voice, without the emphasis of a word to show thai: the subject was a hair more important than any of the hundred-and-one ordinary messages which went to miJce up a large part of his daily life. The talk was so commonplace that we were none of us Interested enough to even stop our chatter. Addieks Tells Him. "Addlcks stepped from the telephone and In a "brlng-me-a-flnger-bowl' tone of voice said: 'Tom, come into the other room a minute; I want a word with you.' He passed ahead of me through a small parlor into ..is bedroom. I followed. He went straight to the bureau, took something from a drawer, slipped it lato his pocket, turned and droppd upon a lounge. But the fractloi a minute had elapsed since he had left the telephone, and l, ueing Dehind, had not seen his face. He looked at me. Could this gray ghost be the same man who had Just before been smiling so contentedly at Parker Chandler's last story? His face was the color of a mouldy lead pipe and seared with strange lines and seams. The eyes thrt met mine were dim and glazed, lusterleas and dead an a fish's eyes dragged from watery depths. "Addicks had not turned a hair as he hung up the telephone receiver, and here he was cowering In a mortal funk, abjectly hopeless. " '1 aw son, the game's up,' tie said In a trembling voice. "That was Fred. He says Dwlght Bramman has had himself appointed receiver of Bay State; that he raided the Wilmington office immediately after he was appointed, broke opes desks and took all the papers he could find, and In an hour or so will be in Philadelphia and in possession of all my bookh and papers. He has a court order for the bank accounts, and the right to take charge of our funds.' " 'This is a starter,' I said, 'what are we going to do?* Caught Napping, 8ays Addicks. " 'The trap Is perfect, and Cm In It They've caught me with every bar down. Before, when they attempted to get a receivership, things were ready for them?books and papers packed for Europe and cash In charge of an unserved officer prepared at the first word to start for Canada. But now, a few days before election, when if I don't throw a lot of money into Delaware for my henchmen, they'll turn on me like wolves?they've caught me napping. It's a plot sure?a receiver in possession, particularly Bramman, and appointed In a way that shows deliberate calculation, proves thai it was done by some one who knows our situation to a 'T.' It means ruin to me and the company, xou Know ? wum wn a friend left on earth, and enemies now will rise up Ulce snakes before a prairie Are." "It was indeed a stiff, tough turn, yet I was watching the man rather out of curiosity to note how he would take a reverse than out of sympathy. I don't believe there is another man on earth who, similarly placed, would not have aroused my sympathy; but Addlcks?no man has pity for Addlcks. " 'Well,' I repeated, 'what are we going to do?* "He did not reply for a moment I continued to look at him. The eyes still haunted me. I noted that the lines around the lids had deepened into furrows. He half raised himself from the lounge. 8ees Yellow 8treak. " 'I've said they would never get me, and they won't.' Instinctively his hand sought the pocket into which he had dropped what he had taken from the dresser's drawer. Then I knew, The yellow streak showed plain at last. I had guessed from the start It was there. " 'Brace up. Addlcks,' I said, 'We are not knocked out yet. At least let us And out what has struck us.'" Law son goes on to tell how the Bay State papers and books still In bis possession were got out of hostile court jurisdiction, and, with Mr, Rogers neutral, the damage was repaired. Lawson In his story goes as far aAeld as Washington and tells how United States senators manage to profIt by foreknowledge of impending legislation. "Such a contingency seemed Imminent some years ago when the Sugar Trust was before the United States senate for some legislation It required to bolster up Its monopoly. Its agents had either been less diligent than usual In disguising the raw bribery they were perpetrating, or this particular senate was too brazen to take the usual precautions to bide Its greed from the world, IrTfiny case, so great an outcry was made in the press of the country that some sacrifice to the people's wrath was called for?one of those familiar sacrifices wh|ch at Intervals of ten or fifteen years in this republic our rulers make to the great god Integrity. Sugar Trust On Trial. "So an Investigation was organized, and a senatorial inquisition had before it eminent sugar capitalists and many other distinguished gentlemen who hv nn Doasibility shed light on the transactions. and then, realising that a show of earnestness, at least, was demanded, it was agreed that some member of Moore ft Schlay''j firm must go on the witness stand, and, on refusing to tell what senators had spec* ulated In sugar, must be sent to Jail, This grandstand play, it was calcu* lated, and rightly, would so hold the attention of the American people that when the committee concluded its in vestlgstlon with the usual loud acclaim of duty well done, its Draconian punishment of the unsubmissive broker would act as another ten years' stay against outcry. "When this stratagem was decided on, Jebn Moore announced that he as head of the Arm should be the sacrifice. But the representatives of the "system" and the senate firmly refused to assign him that role, and instead to his grief and anger, nominated for Jail the tpsoclate member who had charge of M<Jore ft Schley's Washington busi- J ness, whom they declared the logical A Victim: During the thirty days that hfa friend and partner spent behind the bars John Moore's hair whitened more , than in all the years before, and from [ that time until his death he refused L firmly to take part In his old line of work, or was ever again his old Jovial self." r xr When the office seeks the man he has a strange hold on it. 1