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c ifln Tea? Si 11 WMn 11 i | jgr Hli | p ({ * Novelized from the Selig Moving jlj tv Picture Play of the Same Name \; Jv Featuring Kathlyn Williama v !|| _____ | II * li M KATHLYN WILLIAMS Si 1 ? ::: k ?j {% Illustrated With Photo? From v ;X the Picture Films v i 1 | ft. IK: S ! Slory and Pictures Copyright, 13X4, by Sellg Polyscope Co Bantu was watchlnj the fight from the tail piece of the wagon. Suddenly he gave a shrill cry?and fell backward into the arms of little Edith. He looked into the blue eyes of his white , playmate, for whose sake he had run miles through the forest. Then the ' nf littlo T-iluf'lr hnv fitiffpripd i MVUJ V/A. uuo wwwv ~ and he lay very still. "Oh, the pity of it!" cried Mrs. "Wayne. "Poor Bantu!" A bullet from the gun of Amazu had . found the heart of the valiant little | Tjlack boy. CHAPTER VII. 'Mother, Where is Father?" Mrs. Wayne and Edith in the wagon.1 "heard the Kafirs yelling madly and j knew the battle in the clearing was | raging, fiercely. Suddenly flame shot I into the wagon 'and mother and ! daughter coughed as smoke swirled i all round them. Amazu had set fir? ! to the wagon. t But hark! To her ears came new J K CXIUUld anu iuvi v "It's Wambo!" cried Ihe voice of ! v Uncle Steve. And next moment Uncle t Steve himself sprang into the burning r wagon and fairly dragged Mrs. Wayne! out of the flames. Hart at the same! time seized Edith. Blood was flowing; down Uncle Steve's face from the cut! of a spear on. his temple, and Hart j was wounded slightly in the forearm. "Wambo has saved us," Uncle Steve ; said, as he ana Hart carried the | i mother and daughter away from the 1 t . burning wagon, across the clearing and into the jungle. "Wambo and his warriors were out' hunting for the missing Bantu," Uncle j Steve explained, when they were well! within the jungle. ."They heard the I sound of battle and rushed to the res-' nna Tfipv are now engaged in a I VUV* ? W W J pitched battle with Amazu and his j men. Amazu retreated at .the first sign! of the coming of Wambo, but Wambo! and his men are chasing them through j 'the forest." While the whites in the jungle: ,awaited the return -of Wambo and his i mpn thp wapnn in the clearing burned fiercely till only the charred' ruins remained. "Bantu!" cried Edith. "Oh, Uncle ?teve! Bantu was in that -wagon!" "In a sudden frenzy, Mrs. Wayne cried: "But my husband?the doctor! '?what of him?" "Yes, what of the doctor?" repeated Hart. "Mrs. Wayne," he added, "you * must be brave. Your husband has perhaps gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds?or wherever brave men go j ^ whetf they have received mortal; A c O QCCOPfllQ " tt vuuuo nuj~i_i a. uvov.ii The word picture drawn by Hart! proved too much for Mrs. Wayne's already overstrained nerves. The missionarv's wife swooned. Just then a number of Wambo's ; men arrived. \ "What of Amazu?" asked Uncle Steve. "What few of his men are still alive I l are returning to their kraal," one of ? j J xne warriors ausweieu. "And Amazu is dead!" said another. "Amazu was killed by Chief Wambo! himself," a third warrior said. "They i fought like two wild animals till Ama-j zu fell. Here comes Wambo. You1 shall now see why he fought like an animal." The giant figure of Wambo came L into view. As he approached it beL came obvious that he was suffering j K from some deep grief. Presently all W could see that he held in his hand a : pi little brass wheel attached to a thong. I It was the cog-wheel of the alarm clock which Wambo h _.d hung on the ; neck of his iittle Bantu the morning before. "My son, my little boy!" Wambo I said, in an anguished voice. "He was . slain by Amazu. And this charm from j the white man's country, which Bantu k warp on bis npck. this is all I have to show to his mother. I found this in j ^ the ruins of the wagon. My poor Bantu!" Water from Uncle Steve's canteen J had revived Mrs. Wayne. She now, questioned Wambo eagerly. "Wambo, tell me?of my husband." j A silence fell upon them. "His body!" Mrs. 'Wayne cried*' ' "Where does he lie, Wambo? Take i me to him." "He lies, Missy Wayne, on the trail ; toward of our kraal. Come! I will lead you to him!" It was a sad procession that wound W its way down the trail to a certain | f point, where Wambo stopped in sur-! prise. He examined the ground. "He lay here, Missy Wayne," Wani- j bo said, looking round, dumfounded : ' t l at not seeing the body of Doctor L Wayne. "I saw him lying here, L wounded to death by the assegais of Amazu's men. _And all _my warriors sr.w him lvir. r I: re as wo passed on lhr> way to the?- !i;r,':L Dut now is erne. A:n:i:^'s warriors liave taken the body a::d they will?" II.' stopped in pity for Mrs. Wayne, lie dared not impart to her his thoughts of just how Amazu's warriors wculd mutilate the body of tho white man. He knew they would tear the body limb from limb in revenge for their own losses in the battle. But Mrs. Wayne understood Warn* bo's sudden silence. She broke into pitiful tears. ' " ~- 'Ctnvu 'Tnmp SciiU i. iJV,ic v. ^ ~ , Mollie, you must be brave! Come, Edith! We will return to Wambo's village. And soon we will start again for cur home in California." "And wbtn you start again," said Wambo, "you will accept the escort of lny warriors." "Yes," replied Uncle Steve, firmly. "A hundred warriors shall escort us. And we will thank you a hundred times, Wambo, for the protection of your men." All this time, however, Doctor Wayne was alive. He was at that very moment examining the ruins of the burned wagon, and finding the cowryshell necklace which he himself had placed around the neck of his little daughter. CHAPTER VIII. ' The Czvec of the Hundred Lions. Cr. Robert Wayne had follov.-ed Amazu trustingly from the wagon camp. He carried his medicine chest as well as his gun. On the trail they had ambushed him?striking him down with an assegai?without warning and before he could use his gun. And Amazu had left him lying on the trail, supposedly dead. But the missionary-doctor, though v/ounded on the head and seemingly lifeless, was only unconscious. When the blood stopped flowing and had congealed, he recovered consciousness and at once started for the wagon camp. Doctor Wayne poked in the smoldering ruins with a stick?and found some bones and the necklace of cowry shells. He remembered that Chief Amazu had given this necklace to Edith Wayne. And now here were the cowry shells all blackened by fire. And here were bones. Bones of whom? What but bones of his daughter Edith? Her body had been burned with the * "a.-!*(rnn Anri rlrmhtlpss hpr mother. too, was here also incinerated. "God have mercy upon our souls and Incline our hearts to keep thy laws!" Doctor Wayne intoned in a strange yoice. These were the last rational words he was to utter for many a day. For calamity had shattered his mind. All in an hour his beloved ones had been taken from him, as ho supposed, violently, horribly,- forever. He broke into demoniacal laughter. And from far in the forest came the sound of another laugh just. as horrible?the laughter of a hyena wh\), perhaps, supposed it was responding to the cry of one of its own kind. Doctor Wayne reeled away irom xne wagon, staggered across the clearing and into the jungle. He blundered on, not toward the kraal of Wambo, but farther and farther into the darksome, Played With the Leopard as With a Kitten. , pathless habitat of wild beasts?past 1 - - - 1 ~ 1 a/\ r* o or>/l q Vl?. letII" Ut 11UJJ. auu icupai u auu on and on ever in a direction that led him farther and farther away from Wambo's kraal?onward deeper and deeper into the depths of the African jungle. And as the sun went down, Dr. Robert Wayne, bereft of reason, arrived at the entrance to a hollow mountain, a place called by the Kafirs the Caves of the Hundred Lions. As Doctor Wayne stumbled into the great cave he found water pouring from the' rock wall and forming a pool?a natural sunken bath, as it were?in the rock basin in the floor of this granite mansion of nature's own architecture and fashioning. Doctor Wayne drank of the wa A lion passed him, on its way to its lair somewhere in the rock chambers of the cave. Wayne viewed the lion curiously, without fear. Two more lions passed. Wayne stared at them Mankly, without reason. Half a dozen leopards appeared. Doctor Wayne seized one of these leopards and played with it, as a child witn a Kitten. And presently night fell athwart the entrance to the cave. It was now dark where Doctor Wayne lay just within his rock house. And from sheer physical exhaustion he fell asleep. The six leopards lay around and near him, with 12 eyes blazing like powerful lamps piercing the darkness ?w.. tellers ov-r til** s:'.":U. . 1?* * ?I' - , j I'oriii <ji ihc American missionary. : CHAPTER IX. ? Fifteen Years After. A bare-beach-d, golden-haired girl c2 twenty-three picked rose after rose from bush* s that formed an arelu.d ; trellis leading from the bungalow door to the sidewalk at the other end of the lawn. In the library the calendar proclaimed the month to be January. Yet : outside red and white roses grew in riotous luxuriance. For the place was i I-os Angeles, Cal., where there is no i "last rose of summer." The girl with the golden hair was: Edith Wayne, now in all the splendid fulfilment cf her beauty and woman-! j hood. For 15 years had elapsed since she and her mother left British East i i Africa, mourning father and husband as one dead. I On their way home they had stopped in England long enough to comply with certain legal requirements where- j ' by the fortune left to Doctor Wayne1 I would in due time be transferred to the wife and daughter as the heirs of ' the missionary. They had then conj tinued their journey?escorted by j Uncle Steve and Hart?to California, j And this beautiful bungalow in Los Angeles, in front of which Edith was j j now picking roses, had been Dougnt; with part of the money received from j England. Mrs. Wayne's brother. "Un- j cle Steve," lived with them. And Hart could be seen even now in the "back yard" of the Wayne house perfDrming his duties as gardener. as Edith plucked the roses she heard a woman's voice calling: "Good morning, Edith !v' A middle-aged woman came across ; the lawn. She owned the bungalow i next door and since childhood had I been an intimate friend of Mrs. Wayne. "Good morning, Mrs. Morris," Edith | said. j "Edith," said Mrs. Morris, "dD you j know ycu are the exact image of your j mother as she was at your age?when J she married Doctor Wayne?" "So I have been told," Edith answ^red. | "By the way, Edith," Mrs. Morris : remarked, "do you know Capt. Duncan Jones? He's a member of Troop P. tViP rrark ravalrv organization of I ; the state." ! "Capt. Duncan Jones? No, I have j never met him, though I have often ! heard of him as a great hunter and naturalist. What of him?" "He has gone to British East Africa, i Two lieutenants of his troop are with ; him. They have gone to hunt big game." ! "British East Africa!" exclaimed : Edith. "Why, that's where my father ?that's where I passed part of my i childhood. I should like to meet this Captain Jones?when he returns." I Just then Uncle Steve, now gray haired, came hurrying from the house. "Edith," he said, "come inside to vnur mother. She's feeliner bad. She i is weeping ov?r a photograph of your j father. I fear she will have another I of those hysterical outbursts of grief, i I can do nothing with her. Come!" Edith bade good-by to Mrs. Morris and hastened with Uncle Steve into ; the bungalow, carrying an immense | bunch of roses. She found her moth? * ? ? ?? a J /I er in uie liuiaiy, sea. Leu iu an mtauu | chair, clutching to her bosom a photograph of Doctor Wayne. She was ! weeping. "Here, mother, this won't do!" cried Edith, doing her best to inject a cheery tone into her speech. "You must not grieve so. And?oh, yes! I've news for you?about Africa!" i Her mother looked ud expectantly. "News? Africa?" she asked with j eagerness. "What is the news?" "Capt. Duncan Jones of the state cavalry, who lives here in Los Angeles, has gone to British East Africa to hunt. And when he returns, I'll find a ! way to meet him." 1 * " it-.i. 111 1 T7U;4."U ? I I "?io]tv spienaia mai win ue, j Perhaps' he may bring us some tidings ] ! that maj' clear the mystery of?of the | i last resting place of your father." CHAPTER X. J In Tune With the Wild. Just within the entrance to the j Caves of the Hundred Lions, where! water from out the rock wall trickled J a frtT-TviQ/1 o notn-riil c.iinlrpn ! ; UU II Ccliu. XUilU^U c* wvt* m.* ? w ? i bath, a man of massive frame, with a i tawny beard and hair like a mane, clad j only in a lion's skin, was eating his ! breakfast?wild honey, wild cherries and other jungle fruit. U"'n {/Mitiims fT-inco nf n TCTi if A J.i.1^5 icaiuico >> wa. wv T? ^w man, but the color of his skin was as | dark as that of some of the Kafirs who j saw him frequently in the jungle and ; who always left him unmolested. For i the black men held in awe this wildi looking man with the hypnotic eyes ! who consorted with wild beasts as j 1 with human companions. The bronzed hue of his skin was the! i result of 15 years of exposure to the ! rays of the sun that pierced the junI gle fastness. For 15 years he had ini VioVii + orl fhoi Pavo? rvf thp Hnn& ""1 Lions, with all kinds of wild beasts for j his friends. J If there was that in his manner and i | looks that suggested madness, it sure-! j ly was madness most mild. For with 1 ! benign mien he talked to his fcur-footpd oomnanions as one who loved all; ; living things. 1 His companions now, as he ate his i breakfast, were four leopards, two monkeys and two parrots. To these he talked as to human table compan-, ! ions. ! | "Matthew," he said, addressing one i of_the_ leopards, "thou dost lie there j for all tile world like a sick child. Here, JIatthew, .is weed like iiiitb catnip?a mor: 1 of i?! : t) which i brought thee from the l iouk that is half a day's walk from this spot. K: t of it. .Matthew. It will cure thee, tkeu i.otr, sick cut!" I)r. Robert Wayne thrust the weed into the 1 .opard's mouth. Yes, this was Dr. Robert Wayne? though he knew not his name nor anything about himself prior to the day when he had awakened from a long sleep to find himself in this very cave. Having administered to Matthew, Doctor Wayne now turned his attention to the other leopards. "Mark! Luke! John!" he cried.1 "Thou art three lazy ones this morn-! ing. Thou art late in securing thy breakfast. Away with thee! Go forth; and seek that which thy palates i crave." He seized Mark by the neck and tail and threw him out of the cave. f Like children who feared similar treat- j ment, Luke'and John followed Mark; of their own accord. "And as for thee, Ruth, and thee,; j Naomi," Wayne continued, speaking to j j the parrots, "see, here are worms." j He piaced little writhing things on i the cross where the parrots perched, j The cross! It was made rudely of j | iwu LI cc uuugiis. it w ao in the wilderness of this man's former : calling and of the gospel that he had ; sought to teach to the Kafirs. He knelt by the cross now and prayed. CHAPTER XI. The Apparition in the Wilderness. Doctor Wayne now sauntered out of the Caves of the Hundred Lions. Cut side, just by the entrance, stood a nuge elephant. "Toddles, faithful Toddles!" cried the man in tune with the wild. "Ever art thou on guard, as if thou didst indeed love me. Thou seemest to know that che black men of the forest fear thr;e and thy kind, and will not approach so long as thou standest sentinel at my mansion door. Good old Toddles!" Then rame two towering creatures with heads far slfyward, that lowered their heads to be caressed by their human friend -n the lion's skin. Two giraffes! On through the jungle, then, the "wild man" strolled?for "wild man" the natives called him. He marched without weapon and without fear. Yet he knew that in many a thicket as he passed, and in the branches of many I a tree, lurked four-footed beasts cf I prey?lion, leopard, cheetah?watching him with gleaming eyes and perhaps covetous teeth and yearning claws. Yet not one of these beasts so much as growled at the passerby. But now as Wayne approached a great thicket of thora bushes he heard a low growl. The bushes 1* "d been trampled down by the passuig, evidently, of a herd cf elephants. Thorns dotted th? trampled place like so many little upstanding bayonets or spikes, | each particular thorn being as sharp I as a needle, as hard as steel and several inohpa lnne* | V4V** .*4V.?VW *WM0' The growl that came from beyond | this trampled thorn thicket was not, however, a growl of animal anger. It was rather a groan of pain. I Through the thicket the "wild man" ! tore his way, at the risk of sio >ping on one of the upstanding thorns. He emerged into a small clearing and espied a lion limping in distress from a wound in one forefoot. "Why, 'tis my kingly friend, Solomon!" ejaculated Wayne. "Stop, Solo[ raon! Wait, I will tend thee!" The lion stopped and waited for the | man to approach. I "Down, Solomon, down!" Wayne commanded. "I will examine chy j wound and alleviate thy pain." The lion crouched. Wayne knelt heside it and lifted the wounded paw for ! inspection. -The very touch of the | man's hand, gentle though it was, i seemed to give the lion extreme pain. | It moaned and withdrew the paw. I ! Again the man lifted the beast's forefoot. And again the beast pulled away the paw, this time with a growl. 'Ah, Solomon!" the wild man said, j "so thou dost scold! Thou art a coward. Where is thy kingly pride" He now looked the lion pointblank in the eyes ana again nitea me wounaea paw. [ "A thorn!" he muttered. "A thorn probably many inchfes in length? sharp as the point of Kafir assegai? hard as a spearhead. And imbedded in thy claw, Solomon, up to the hilt. No wonder thou art suffering! My poorl Solomon! Wait! With the excrac-1 tion of this thorn thy pain will vanish, j Sr.?cnt? I i He got hold of the thorn with his: fingers, and he pulled. But he found j the thorn so deeply impaled In the | flesh of the paw that not even, his strong fingers could draw it out. "But despair not, noble Solomon!" Wayne murmured. "Feeble my fingers may be, but strong are my teeth and more fitting, too, for the task." He applied his teeth to the thorn, took a good hold?and pulled. Four inches or thorn came forth j from the lion's paw. The beast actu-! ally heaved a sigh of relief. With the I removal of that hard, sharp wooden ' spike pain immediately vanished. As ; if in token of its gratitude, the lion : fho hanfl nf tho man whnw dfX> ! toring had made the beast able again j to compete physically with other; beasts of the jungle. "Farewell, Solomon!" called the wild man, as the lion bounded away. "Give my love to Sheba, who I knowr Is even now awaiting your homecomIng at your lair." !; ' / ' v* ^ -^?5i j ,V. : : ; - v : . ' ; ( -* - " v *' . \ * ' j ; ... . / / 1 ' ' v ' ?, ' < ;. - > >:>, ,..... U v.. ' .-:. . . . . '< -, rM I.-- ' - ^ )fe* 'I | i Lifted the Wounded Paw. Again onward through the jungle strode the man who knew-, no feartill suddenly he halted, gazing ahead spellbound at the apparition that con.r_ x a u : lruriteu mm. The apparition wa3 a man of a rajce ! which Wayne could not remember hav- \ ing ever seen before?a Caucasian. The white man, who stood net 50 j feet from Doctor Wayne, had a iifie. He ! was aiming the gun at an object, j Wayne looked to see at what the white j man was so carefully aiming that i deadly weapon. He saw a leopard | crouched on a fallen tree, watching j evidently for a bird of which to make j a dainty meal. This crouching leopard was none other than one of Doctor Wayne's own house guests, Mark. "Don't!" shouted Wayne, his voice rending the jungle silence like a clap nf thunder. "Don't!" he reneated. For the first time the white man himself heheld an apparition?seeming a wild man, whom he instantly recognized, however, as of the white race, yet one become so strangely wild that he seemed like a prehistoric caveman come to life in the forest primeval. "Art thou so airaid of yonder beast that thou woul <st kill it?" Wayne said, advancing toward the stranger. "I will show thee that yonder beast is rnt tr? feared. Behold, man of fear, how the beast of the forest will yield itself to man when man has proved to be a friend!" Wayno went to the leopard, lifted it bodily over his head, wound the lithe and elastic form around his neck and shoulders like a mighty collar. Thus with Mark, the leopard, wrapped around him, the wild man vanished into the thick of the jungle. "Well, I'll .be dimmed!" exclaimed Capt. Duncan Jones of Troop F, the ?? Ai - O XV ^ cracic cavalry organization ui me | state of California. .CHAPTER XII. A Photograph of the Wild Man. "And denied if he isn't a white j f*" r>o Tiiinon TrcnPQ ! Hi CXI I V/UUUliU^U ivuuvwiA u wuvwj recovering from the spell cast over him by the strange apparition. "I thought wild men existed only in novels and dime museums. But hanged if that wasn't the real thing! I'll find the boys and tell them about j it. We must capture that wild man i and take it home in a crate and sell it j to some circus." Captain Jones now listened intently j for some sound that would indicate j the location of his safari from which he had become separated. ?Somewhere in the jungle were his two friends, Lieutenants Steele and Rodman, both j of Jones' own cavalry troop. ' "Oh, Steele! Oh, Rodman!" the captain yelled. But there was no answer except the echo of his own voice. Whereupon; Capt. Duncan Jones decided to return j to camp and await his friends there. About an hour later, two lions were drinking at a yater hole. Two shots were fired in quick succession and both lions fell in their tracks. The shikaris ran up, followed by the two; lieutenants, Steele and Rodman, who had fired the shots. Steele had a camera and prepared to use it. The shikaris held the dead lions up, and Steele focused his kodak on the "bag." Even as he squeezed the bulb that opened the shutter of the lens, an j apparition appeared and the camera i caught it, standing by the lions. The apparition had a long mane and j tawny beard and was dressed in aj lion's skin. It seemed to the lieutenants to be a wild man. Also tliey were not slow to perceive that the man was mighty in his anger as he viewed the two dead lions. "Thou hast forgotten the commandment, 'Thou shalt not kill!' the wild! man said, in a voice terrible in its re-J proach. "Were I to observe the law of j an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, I would rend thee both asunder with these, my naked hands. Thus would I punish thee for slaying two of my friends of the forest. For here lie my good friends, Solomon and Sheba. Woe to thee, if again I hear A +1-% TT ii'Anr*Anc ' " tut? iiiunutri ui in j ?. With that the wild man turned and; fled. "After him!" commanded Lieutenant j Steele, turning: to those of the Kalirs j who carried spears. "Yes, capture him!" cried Lieutenant Rodman. "He's a wild white man! Get him! But don't harm a hair of his head." i ii > > I ' ? '-y i.i ihit direc n b> Dc/tor Wayne*. Soon, in a cI'-mm. z, llu y es::i--d him. One of *?.< TT;--A v / ' \ ^ ^ ^ I v The Camera Caught the Wild Man. \ the Kafirs, disobeying the orders of the' white men, hurled his assegai. Thespear struck Wayne in the flesh of his back and lodged there. Like a Spartan of old, Wayne reached round and pulled the spear free of his body and then staggered on. Weakened by loss of blood, however, he fell in his tracks. The natives rushed forward to him. But just then a great lumbering body came crashing through the underbrush and out into the clearing. It was Toddles, the elephant, the sentinel, who acted as guard at the door to. the Caves of the Hundred Lions when ever Wayne was within. The Africans fled, for Africans, unlike Hindus, fear elephants and hat? \ them. Straight to Wayne came Todciles, % and lifting the fallen man from thei ground with his trunk, carried him: through the jungle back to the en-, trance to the Caves of the Hundred; Lions. There Toddles deposited Doctor Wayne gently on the ground. Latfrr in the day, Lieutenants Steel? and Rodman reached camp, where they found Captain Jones awaiting them, "Good bag for the last day of our African hunt!" said Steele, jubilantly. "LooV.!" And proudly he showed Jones the two dead lions brought in by the shikaris. "Yes," said Rodman. "I've told the bljack boys to prepare for an early start for the coast tomorrow morningTwo months from today we'll be back in Los Angeles." "Say, boys," remarked Captain Jones, "what do you think I saw today? I saw a wild* man." "We saw him, too!" Steele said. "And he cursed us up and down for slaughtering the lions, which ha / called his friends." "Wonder who he is?" murmured Jones, thoughtfully. "Perhaps he's somebody's father in the State3. Who knows." "I think I caught him in my camera* said Steele. "I'll develop the plate You fellow! wait I'll see what I've got." < With the last rays of the setting sun Steele, having developed the plate, secured a print and showed it to hia fellow hunters. "Great!" Jones ejaculated. 'The wild man and the lions together in one picture. Bully! Don't forget to give me a complete set of your photos made here in the jungle, Steve. Give them to me when we get back to Los Angeles. And be sure you include this picture of our wild man." CHAPTER XIII. f The Hunter's Return. Edith Wayne picked geraniums, hummed a tango tune and vaguely wondered when Capt. Duncan Jonea would return from Africa. The month now was June. In the library by the 'open window Edith's mother sat in her wheel chair, watching the gathering of the crimson blossoms v,tuch grew so profusely in the garden surround lllg llltf VV civile UUllfeCUVW. Mrs. Morris from "next door" came across the lawn, her countenance gossiping of important news. "Edith!" she said, "have you heard the tidings? Capt. Duncan Jones and his friends returned from their African hunting trip this morning." "Oh, goody!" exclaimed the ever enthusiastic Edith. "You will see fhat I meet him, won't you, dear Mrs. Mor- ^ ric?" (TO BE CONTINUED.) Safety First. Detective (2 a. m.Y?(Hey, youse! Wotcber hangin' round this 'ere front door fer? ! - . t-> <V,T. SUPPOSea JOUrgliti X ill wainix . jvi the lady inside to get asleep. We're married. In Animalyille. Life. Coon?I see your wife has taken to sleeping in a bed. Possum?Yeaha; hangin' ain't good . ^ enough for her. >OTICE TO JUROBS. # f Jurors who were summoned to ap- * near at court .Monday 21st, inst., are hereby notified that they need not come until Wednesday 23rd. inst., as court will not convene until 10 o'clock September 23rd, 1914. Jno. C. Goggans, C. C. C. P. -Sept. 14th, 1914.