C JGPYRIGj h CCCL. PF/RG & Co
Synopslt.-Tom Shelby. a rancher.
rides into the frontier town of
P'ca. looking for a go"d time
a ter a long spell of haru work
and loneliness on the ranch. In
stead, he runs into a funeral-that
of Dad Calkins. a retired army
man of whom (ittle is knL6wn. A
girl, still in her teens. survives
Calkins. McCarthy. a saloon keep
er and Ponca's leading citizen. de
cides that the girl., now alone in
the world, should marry. She
agrees to pick out a husband from
the score of meal Nned up in her
home. To his consternation. she se
lects Shelby. who had gone along
merely as a spertator. He declines
the honor. Indignant. the girl dis
misses the assemblage. Shelby
runs into two of the rejected suit
ors, and in a fight worsts them
both. Angered at their remarks.
he returns to the girl. determined
to marry her, if she will have him
After his explanation she agrees to
marry him.. The wedding takes
place and the couple set out for
Shelby's ranch. With them is
"Kid" Macklln, whom Shelby has
hired as a helper. On the way the
girl tells her husband her name Is
Olga Carlyn. and also tells him
something of the peculiar cirtum
stances of her life. Upon arlval
at the ranch Shelby is struck down
from behind and left for dead. He
recovers conscaousness to find that
Machkln and his wife' have gone.
He starts in pursuit. He learns
his wife is an heiress, that her ab
duction has been carefully planned
and that she has been taken to
Wolves' Hole, a stronghold of ban
dits and bad Indiana.
thelby visioned all this in his mem
Pry. qucntloning his chance of ever
successfully lavading such a spot with
t arousing susplcion. It was plnln
ly proven by their testimony that
Maikiln was taking his captive to this
spot foe safe hiding. He and his In
dian accessories had ridden on. an.
bus to reach this security with a* lit.
ile delay as poemble. "Rt would Shel.
by dare to follow? To be sure. except
to the KM. he was uoknown. which
dght alte hitM welcome. Yet the
danger oftetectin was great.
Appreatly. 'there was no other
tlobe way to .Which he could hope
to sere Olga. He Wreghed this with
-s etoeke 'tlh teft imself, rld
ly and tely counting the
ehece, and decided to make the at
smC vtced as to his duty. and v-red
to t by the troema Interest he felt to
the gid. phehby cast all heitancy
-a-"s. HI would make the attempt:
taue had surely favored bme thrs
li, Sid might agla. Re went beck,
to where the backskeo waited. mount
eMthe aemal~ quiet emough by this
ta., role dewn to the edge of the
esa-m, and sat alletty I tthe mddle
,wWle the beast drapk. It was a'da~k,
eler alht, the stare overhead ake
hom s t the My. the air coal and
f issh. h t ed the pona up the va
hir. , klg so effort to brry the sal
I ultreus only at present of keep.
g well to the rear of the two horse
S-e sheed H knew the corse they.
-wud t o msut tae up the talley
0 Ile riesases aW ,ar as the great
bist. sad thef across the plateau mi
.h.ay reghed the Cottoanwood. e
"simtPll ow eouttousl iath
five saene tr ,1 tran to
Ss sad dver. from sene
`to pickk :then up wilh hbl
tb. g;au s a I`the valle* was thec.
sllet aig. It prmentd o. ohtaiele
t osel. bet the home's hofs made
as " Peiastged the rider umtmana
ftheluakils lowered his bred
r-toed aw t uord steadily at a rapid
#siteby sw n gr it the snddle.
M et kely awae to any
afto hour passed, the valley
gaia eitg daiether sed
m d s , sa the rt bea
saW sith . sb s emeMtl e ·nort
I pm eaeataoesed to think,
I mme: thee was Ntte
teite WY, kDLnhu to
senWheir eiher oe
.It was a
- .t it'd rio.
and his companion had not ventured
the passage until dawn, the marks of
their horses' hoofs so fresh as to con
vince their trailer they were scarcely
beyond the sound of his voice. He
even found where they had dismount
ed. waiting for daylight, the ground
littered with the ends of burnt ciga
Shelby loitered an hour before ven
turing to follow. There was no other
way out, and so he munched at a coldd
meal, and prsentted the buckskin to
browse alon the bank of the stream.
well contwem hy a fringt of willows.
Theta. hoth horse and man refreshed.
he went forward on foot. lending t:Ce
animal, and began the upward climb.
In places it was not unlike a cave,
and Shelby had no idea how far 'ae
had gone. when he suddenly emerged
out from the gloom into the sunlight
of the summit, with a clear view
across the level plateau.
Shelby atopped, holding the horse
hack below the summit and gazed anx
iously about. The soil left no trail
and, with the naked eye. Shelby was
unable to distinguish a sign of life
within the radius of vision. Every
thing had the appearance 4' death
the death of ages. He stood upright
and swept the circle with hls field
glasses. He was :rarely Ia time; for
far off there to the left. scarcely dis
cernlble even then against the black.
overhanging ridges of rock, he made
out two slowly moving objects. They
were not distinct, he could not have
sworn what the. were, but there was
no doubt in his mind as to their Iden
tity. He .studied them eagerly until
they disappeared down a coulee, and
then- carefuly marked the course, his
point of guidance a high pinnacle of
rock standing out against the sky.
He was an hour reaching this ob
jective, but once there he found the
trail plainly traced along the edge of
the bank. It led In and out amid the
intricacies of the hills, taking, of nec
essity, so winding a course as to give
Shetbh no view *head and soon con
fused him In point of direction. He
could only move forward cautlenuly.
fearful lest they might have halted for
some purpose, and watchful of every
trace of their ameage, as other ravines
were constantly uniting with this
through which be was blindly feeling
his war. He came to send and lost
all signs of the trail instantly. search
lag for it tn vain for nearly an hour
before confessing himself at fault
Then, leaving the horse below, be
climbed the nearest hill for a view of
The sun gave him the proper diree
tions. but all about stretched the same
dreary, bare ridges of rock, offering
no guidance. Theim was no life visi
ble anywhere and although he waited
for some time, sweeplng his glasses
beck and forth, he gained no glimpse
of the two be endeavored to follow.
They bad vanished as though swal
lowed up by the earth. The msun was
already to the west and desperately he
determined to try the level. Even this.
amid the Intricacies of those branch
lag passages between the round hills.
was dlfllelt to achieve, yet he finally
diseovered an exit and ventured to
ward bthe north. confident that the
Cottenwood would surely lie some
where In that direction.
He came upon It so suddenly and
unexpectedly as to almost daze his
faculties. Almeost without warning he
stood at the very edge of A yawning
bole and stared in amazement down
1* *ibUsalp aEprgii Oea Press the
b. ib,** a helaw. Aealo s
apsiE . im heard this secm. deewth
- t blg le A fateht sr--
ame me stees at 1b *r i
and the silvery stream running tlrougn
the center seemed scarcely a yard
wide. A yard. why, if It was actually
the Cottonwood. It must he a hundred
feet from hannk to bank.! God! What
n hole: What a freak of nature:
What a wilderness hiding pl'e!'
lie lay motionless, with eyes search
ing up and down the valley. To the
right he could not determline how far
it extended, but to the left he ~nlnilld
dis.ern the siver shield of water
wlhere the Cottonwood (aitlle tuliiiingill
over a precipice. One of the two Io
sible entranc(es vuwas there: the other
mullst he lllong some one of those nu
nmerous side rnvines. whose Ilahk en
trances he could dimly perceive. It
was all so serene, so peaceful. the
truth seenied impossithle-that he was
natially gazing down into a veritablie
hell on earth, a rendezvous of white
thieves and Indian murderers, a bhor
der fortress for all the nameless devil
try of the frontier.
And he mu:t invade the Hole, alone.
If he would he of service to this woman
captive' By sheer recklessness he
must pierce the thing to the heart. Yet
how was It to be dong? Not even a
mountain goat could find passage
down those rocks even by daylight and
in anotter hour all would he darkness.
He could not remain there; before
night made the search impossible he
must at least find water and a place
.In which to camp. He stared down
into those deepening mists Iblow, al
ready beginning to blot out the fea
tures of the valley.
"God. what a hole." he breathed;
"It is like looking straight into hell.
The only way down must he some
where to the left. Case told me they
passed in under that waterfall."
He got to his feet. with the pony
trailing behind, moved backward away
from the edge of the chasm Into tile
open plain. Suddenly. as his glance
wandered searchingly toward the
chain of rock hills. *he man stopped.
his heart pounding. What was that
moving yonder. Just emerging from out
the mouth of that ravine and becoming
clearly outlined against the gray al
kali. He knew almost Instantly-the
advance of a drove of cattle. deboach
ing through the narrow defile and
spreading out as they attrined the
wider open space. There must be a
hundred heat; and even as he corr
prehended. horsemen appeared in their
rear. spurring forward to turn them
to the left down a shallow gulch.
There was no way he could escape
observation; no possibility of hiding
on that bare plain. Shelby's brain
worked like lightning. There were five
riders: he could count them now: In
dians mostly, although one was surely
white. There was nothing left him
but audacity and lies. He must take
the chance, the one chance, mad. des
perate, yet yielding a possibility of suc
cens. He swung the field glasses to
his eyea-yes. one rider was white. a
squat figure with a red beard, and
another, the fellow at this end. ap
peared to be a Mexican. Then he
laughed grimly : the vortex of his glass
rested on the exposed flank of the
nearest steer and he saw the brand.
By all the gods. they were his own
cattle! The humor of It fldshed in
his eyes, but the Jaw of the man set
sternly. The d--d thieves! He
strode forward, the pony trailing at
his beet-. and then the Mexican saw
him. throwing up one hand n a 'swift
signal and spurring his horse reckless
Sacerows the gray plain. They met
half way. Shelhy still afoot. the other
sweeping up at full speed. his horse
brought fairly to Its haunches by the
cruel pressure of a Spanish bit
The fellow was a handlome devil
hut for the evil in his eyes and a dia
lgrlang scar down one cheek. The
eyes of the two met and the rider's
band dropped Instantly upon the ex
posed hutt of a revolver. -
"Boenas dias. enor." he amid harsh
ly. staring. "What is the meaning of
Shelby mlied, coolly returnlng his
"The meaning of what, senor?" he
-"Your being here--alone! I have
not sees you before. You are not of
the Wolves' den."
"Oh. Is that it, snor?" Indiffereatly.
'"Then maybe you will tell me how
I am to finad a way fnto this den of
wolves? I have looked down yonder,"
he waved his hand.
"You seek it. then?"
"Sure: otherwise why should I be
heret You will guide me?"
"Caramha! It delends." suslpleous
ly, yet'•omewhat disconcerted by the
other's quiet manner. "I would know
more first. You are lost,?
'"Completely; yet It ia a story easily
told. I was with a man named Han
ley an' a fellow called Hank."
"Old Matt-I know him."
"Good; then I have met a friend.
We were there, hack in those h!lls,
when my girth brome--see. where I
have fixed it. I fell behnlad and they
rode on. I thought to follow easily.
hut, yeo must know those hills, the
trail was lost; pbrhap I took a wro,,g
turn. for suddenly I foaund myself on
The Mexieqp sat motioales, ha
eyes as susapeious s ever, but his
Mingers no hager gripped on the re
velver. The last of the crttle had dis
appeated down the coulee and the red
hearded thMte man was riding toward
them amme the alkalI. Neither
I chaned pmition uantil he came ap,. a
lump of a fellow. with staring ey
'tnd compiaolo the color of parehb
"What the b-- is all this, Juoan"
he qestlomed reughly. "Who is the
S"H travel withL Matt Hantey an'
get le: as hbe any."
"Hanley. hey! Tbhat' mme reesm
ursmdaties. Who else was with yoar
"A man ealled aak."
sa ,is, Well, te setaJ sonds
· h ea'fat: them two loft hera
'egher: I ha h to hlew that
whet's ys n*a*r
"W stl Matt Whu to me ahaut
that. pe mw -Emok ibaLY stalkla' a
i dam P.m wdamt
*ers ho,,t l m-m aO-sr sas an
"Virglinla; ne'a my father."
"Oh. h-I. an' where you been?"
"I see." his eyes wandered. "Sounds
kinder tishy, young feller, but I ain't
in no shape to tell. I r kon Matt
IHanley kin straighten It out. in' if he
is down thar, the hest thing we kin do
Is to take yer 'long. If yer lyin' ye'll
he d- n sorry 'fore yer get iout ag'in.
I'll tell yer that to begin with, hut if
yer gatme to ride along, we'll see 'er
get lth r all right. Let's hit her uip.
Tullan; them injuis will need us 'fore
long. C'omie on. stranllger."
Hle wheeled his horse and ro'le off
on a sharp trot and the Mexican fol
Ilawed. Neither man so In('h as
glanced battck toward Shelhy. seetnilug
ly Indlifferent as to what he chose to
do. Yet he knew the c(ustolis of the
West and that if he failed themi now
no future falsehood would ever regain
their confldence. He swung into the
saddle and rode silently forward be
hind Juan. The cattle were still out of
sight ahead, but they could hear the
calls of the drivers. Shelby pressed
his bronco up closer to the Mexican.
who had lit a cigarette.
"Is it far. Juan?" he asked.
"Nom de Dios! I heard you not.
To the Hole you mean? Not far. but
"You Are Not of the Wolves' Den."
rough, senor; yet there is no other
way to get cattle in."
"The man with you: who is he?"
Juan emitted a cloud of blue smoke
in the air, smiling pleasantly.
"Laud !" in undisguised astonish
ment. "What Laud? Not 'Indian
"SI. senor; they call heem that."
confidently. "He verra bad man. You
know heem, what?"
Shelby gripped himself tightly.
"I've heard of him, that's all. He's
a Sioux squawman, but I never knew
what he looked like before."
His pony, no longer urged, fell back.
trailing at the rear of the others.
Juan rode on. unconscious and Indif
ferent, blowing spirals of smoke into
the air. and humming the strain of
some Spanish melody, but Shelby was
staring beyond him at the red-bearded
white man slouched down In his sad
dle. So that fellow was "Indian Joe"
Laud! As never hbtore he realized
to the full the danger Into which he
"Indian Joe" laud! When hadn't
he heard of him? For years certa!nly,
ever since he had been In this north
country, yet in appearance the fellow
was not at all what he previously
had imagined that desperado to be.
Lead was gross, bearded, dirty, eoarse
feeturld; to all appearaqces a nmere
barrolm tough, yet no man on the
frontier had a wnrse record or was
more dreaded and deeplsed. Why was
he here stealing cattle on the very
vergse of Indian war? True, he was
not a Sioux in blood. yet it was well
known that he had been adopted Into
the tribhe and never failed to have a
hand in their deviltry. Army officers
claimed he possessed more influemnce
over them for evil than any chief. and
Shelhy had heard him mentioned with
Sitting Bull as leaders in the ghost
dan(nc. If true, then he must know
how far to venture, and just when to
draw aside so as to save himself. That
must he It-to himnt war meant only an
opportunity to plunder. The final re
sult was clearly Indfan defeat; he
would keep out, but in the meanwhile
profit all he could.
The trail led downward at a rather
steep grade. In spite of continual curu
aIng. The sure-footed horses- moved
faster than the cattle, and before the
outh* reached the level of the valley
the three riders had closed In on the
Indian drivers. Shelby knew them at
once as young Sloux warriors. and was
again able to distinguish plainly the
brand on the flank of the steers bring
ing up the reer of the herd. They
were unquestionabmhly his own stock.
and. In spite of hli rage, he could not
be entirely Indifferent to the grtm hu
mor of the aituatlon-he was helng
guided into Wolves' hole by the very
men who had robbed him.
Yet his thoughts did not dwell upon
thisn much Just then, as on the roadt
chance he had assumed in this adven
tare. What could lie accomplish? What
hope was thee that he would ever
emerge again alive? He was going
forward blindly, led by fate, with not
eoven a plan of gudance. He must
work alone, in the midst of enemies
desperate men to whom hutnan life
was valueless, and where aly Inca
tous word or act would instantly ex
pose him to discovery. In spite of
the fact that he was believed dead.
MacHktln would reeognise him at a
gmase, and the very claim that he was
a friLed of Hanley'a exposed him to
disevety. In some way be must avoid
them both, and yet as plan presented
itset to premise escape. He couldl
ounly drift helplesly, becomlg mere
despasudet f meeess with wery step
It wa strea dsuk when thy at
tuded the level . the valleys the
mmuwmret aM s nm his am
either hand,. leaving tIn.-L 1.o-tnl.
through the gloonl. Yet even here the:
had not attained the full depressiol
of the IIne. whllich required anothe.
sharp desen('ellt Ialong the border of the
strelinm. where a ledge of rock hald evi
dently Ieen Ilil.stetd out. Thlis ptssag
abhruptly ended in i wide, Stone (cau'+e
wlvy. turninlg shatrply to thn left. llti!
trltrling htbeIath a waterfall. where lhe
broald stll'eaml Itlped oer' a ledge vi
high rock. 't was a flna ,o get th'
('litle through. yet ollc 't-lartel. thle
pliunled f'urtar l. following each uit,*
with fright, never Iautsilig until the..
scittered out over the pI)h:ll In lo)w.
lI:tud drew up his liorse in front of a
stnIllI log structu're, so c(nceatled a1
the edge of a straggly girov c. tihat. it
the gloomli, Shelty .vas not eveiil nwari
of its existen'e t:niil voices greeted
"Back again. .tJo Where'd *er pick
up that hunc(h?"
"Up on the ('ottonwood; easy pirk
in'." and Iauid fltiig lonIe leg over his
sladdIle in a posture of rest. "Where's
Kelly? O)h. Dan; bring me out a
drink. Anything new?"
The tall. rlw-hllonedl rontiertnman
who respollled, puffed at his pilp. antd
out through the open door of the cab
In there suddenly streanlmed a light re
vealing his features. aInd the ladlstinCt
outlines of others llling nealr by.
"Well. not touch. Joe." he aunwered
drawnllgly. "mlost a' the inlaiws have
struck out : nin't mnir'l a drzei hlnllks
left. I reckon. 'lThey tell nme they"re
raisin' h-I already over I'onca way;
niptyhle yer heard labouit it?"
lnud nodldedl. wipingh lil ips with
the h:ak of hlis hand. "lW'hair's Matt
"(lh. lie in' Silltin entili' In 'hout five
hours aigo. I reckon, aII wen ellt ll Up
tot tle cove."
"l-i\ave enythin v.ith 'mla?"
"Not titet I ,se -they dildn't. did
they. .Iim--utist travelin' liiht."
"Dldn't say enlythilig Illlout Iianother
"Not that I know about. They n't
ed like they w'as hoth plliium tired out,
indtl wanted ter go .slieep. .Jllst took a
drink llpiece, at..l tnosied along."
Laud let fall an oaith.
"All right the.n. but d- d If 1ill
ride down to the cove tonight. We'll
go tip to your shlck. Juain. and bunk
down. (Comle on. both o' yer."
"Because you are a woman,
I guess. and because I think
you are straight."
(TO BE CONTINUEDL)
TREE WAS ONCE A HANDSPIKE
Old Cottonwood at Norris City, Ill.,
Has Interesting History-Was
"Planted by Boy in 1815.
At Norris City, Ill.. there Is a tree
knqwn as the "vaulting-pole cotton
wood" that hats an interesting histor3
which is told by the American For
estry Magazine (Wushington) as ful
Hosen Pierce and a boy comrade 's
turned from the war of 1812 t' their
homes. near Norris City. in the spring
of 1815. and on January 8 of that
year they had helped General Jack
son whip the British in the Battle of
These hoys both attended a log
rolling on the ol*d Pierce farm that
spring, and as they were returning to
the house after their day's work made
a wager who could .vault the furthest.
using their cottonwood handpilkes as
vaulting poles. They both left their
handstllke sticking In the soft earth
where they had vaulted. and darrln
the sprinkg .rilns of 1815 they both
took root and lived.
One of these trees died about ten
years ago. hut the other is stIll livlng
and is 105 years old. This tree is
about thirty teet in elmlrumference. 175
feet high, with a very large hollow in
the hase of the tree which has been
used as a housing for settlng hens. a
kennel for (lonls and is always a fine
playhouse for children.
British Warship's Great Gun.
At first sight It mnay seem strange
that the Hood should carry only the
same artmamnent as the Queen Klza
heth. hudt rme eight years before the
Hood. As a mlatter of fact. the Queen
Elizabeth's gutns mire forty-tito caliber"
In length; hbt the gullns of tile oodl
are forty-five clblher long atid have
greatly IncreMased nlluzzle velocity.* It
is belleved that the ngun welighs a lit
tie under one hundred tons and fires
a 1.9.'lpoutnd shell with il muzzle vel
city. of 2.RiM) foot-seconds. Another
iltpr, venlent over the Quleen Ellzi
heth is that the new gunst have an
elevation of it degrees for a ntaximittl
rnnce of 18.(01) yards. The loand'ng
gear hWas heen so inprovetl that the
Hood is credllted with belnlg abhle to
fire a salvo of eight guns every thlrty
five seconds.-Scientiflc American.
A cynical method of enticing a hesi
tating partner into the honds of matri
mony Is furnishied hy the bower-hird.
which hulllds a structtre of stlcks
formel Into a kind of passage or ave
nue and hbntifully ornamented with
feathers and shells. On its comple
tion the wolhi-he hridegroom lrintrs
the bird of his choice to Inspect his
fine estwbhllshment and entices her to
Quer Cradles for Sables.
An Infant In Guiana is usually bur
led In sand ut to its waist whenever
the mather is busy. and this is th,
only cradle it ever knowr. The little
Lapp on the other hand. fares most
uInxurlonly hi Its mother's shoe.
These Ltapp ,shoes are hit affairs of
akihn stuffed with soft moss, and. ran
he hunt on a peg or tree branch safte
ly out of the way.
Within the Law.
I"Look at that fellow In there with
a leaded revolver." sale our walggiahell
triend at the beach yesterday--andl
whIi, somewhat startled. we gaed
through the doorway what we saw
was merely a bit merry-ground full
of youngl tolks and in the Ceater the
Sproprietor thereoL. --. ostom Tran
IBaebds kills ieure tha mlars--Ge
ian proe a.
By GEORGE ELIOT
Mr. Ellery Sedgwick, Editor ot
the Atlantic Monthly
George Eliot was
the pena ame of
the famous Eang
lisk writer, Mary
Aun (or Maran)
Evans. She was
born In 181$ at
Arbury farm in
died at Chelsea
Dee. 3, 1880. Her
father. Robert Ev
atss, was the aeat
of Mr. Prsetsi
Newdgate, and the
years of the noe
elrat's Itfe were
spent on the Ar
bury estate. At
her mother's death
while Mlse Evans
was still in her
tees shbe became
her father's house
keeper, and pursued her studies away
from sekool and classes. All through
her youth she was somewhat subdued
by a very strlct religious training; and
she was a great reader of religious and
philosophical sujects, and In later
years wrote of tEem also.
In 1I41 the family moved to Coven
try, and it was there that Miss Evass
made the acquaintaseO of Mr. and Mrs.
Charles Bray sad Mr. Charles Heanell,
who beme her staunch friends.
In 1851 she became the assistant edl
tor of the Westminster Review. She
made several notable contributtons to
the Review and during the time of her
connmmection with it mau- the rcquatat
muer of many distinguitah4 authers of
Miss Evans frst attempted the writ
ing of Betior in 185t. and published ia
Blackwood's magainste the rat t the
"Seemes of Clerical Life." Although
she received much encouragement trem
private sources, mnotably Charles Dick
ens, the erlties were rather noneom
mlttaL Then in 185$ Miss Evans wrote
and published what in the Judgment of
many is her masterpiece. "Adam Bede."
It has beem said that in the character
of Adam Bede she drew a portrait of
her father. and certanlmly "Dainh Mor
ris," the heroine of the story. was oau
of her own favorite characters.
THAT last year of the eighteenth
century Hayslope was a pleas
ant neighborhood to live in. It
was far enough away from the noise
of "Boney's" battles to sleep In peace.
Men chatted of crops and rents, and
listened to the gossip of women folk
regarding Dinah Morris of Snowfield,
Mrs. Poyser's own niece, who had
turned "Methody" preacher and would
stand right before men on the village
green, talking to them of the comfort
they could find in their friend, Jesus
And, worse still, Dinah was so at
tractive and so gravely loving that the
men, and women too, gladly listened
to her. Big Adam Bede, the carpen
ter, would have liked to see more of
her, had he eyes for any one except
old Poyser's niece, Hetty Sorrel. As
for HIetty, she had no thought for
Adam; Captain Arthur Donnithorne,
heir of the estate, had whispered too
many things in her pretty ear.
It was natural enough. There, in
her aunt's white dairy, rounding her
dimpled arm to lift a pound of butter
out of the scale, Hetty had the yauty
of a fluffy kitten. Her large dark eyes
had a soft roguishness, and her curly
hair, pushed away under her cap, stole
back In delicate rings on her forehead.
Of course, the dash:ng captain had no
foolish ideas about marriage, but thee
,as he bent over her shoulder, he wax
soldier enough to feel his head turn
very fast. He had no wish to harm
her, you nay be sure of that, for he
had great pride in the Donnithorne
estate, and it is pleasant for a rich
young man to be liked and admired.
One August evening Adam walked
homeward through a grove of grand
beeches, the glory of the estate. As
carpenter and woodsman, he delighted
in fine trees, and paused to look at a
huge beech which stood at the turn
ing before the grove ended in an arch
way of boughs.
All his life he remembered that
moment, for there, not twenty yards
away, stood two figures, close, with
clasped hands. They started. The
girl hurried away, while Arthur Don
nithorne walked slowly forward. He
was flushed and excited, but reassured
himself by remembering that Adam
was a sensible person, not likely to
babble. That the big sober carpenter
loved Hetty, Arthur had no idea.
"Well, Adam," maid Arthur earelesv
ly. "You've been looking at the fine
old beeches, eh? I overtook pretty
Hetty Sorrel as I was going to my
eld hldge in the woods; so I took her
to the gate, and asked for a kiss for
my pains. Good night"
Adam dared not more lest he spring
on Arthur like a tiger.
"Stop a bit," he said in a hard,
"What do you mesan" Arthur felt
his temper rising.
"I mean that, Instead of the hon
orable man we've all believed you,
you',; a selfish scoundrel."
Arthur found it hard to control him
"Well, Adam, perhaps I have gone
too far in taking notice of the pretty
little thinw. and stealing a f.w kisses.
You're sucn a grave fellow .cou don't
understand temptations. Let's say no
more. The whole thing will soon be
Japanese newspaper publitshers pride
themselves on the taste and iadividual
Ity of their title-pages. In Tokio alone
there is quite a variety of title pages,
and in at least one instance, the Tokio
Malntlchi, fowers that ornament the
title page are changed with the sea
Newspaper are numerous, although
whoever starts a newspaper in Japan
must make a deposit with the govern
sast uas securitty for "goed condunct."
*No, oy Go," sait Auu.ul. "aUl nlut
be soon forgot as you've come in be
tween her and me when she might
have loved me. It'll not be soon tor
got, as you've robbed me of my happi
ness when 1 thought you my nest
friend. You're a coward and a scoun
drel, and I despise you."
The color rushed back to Arthur's
face. He dealt a lightning blow which
sent Adam staggering back, but the
delicate-handed gentleman was no
match for the workman's great
strength. After a fierce struggle. Ar
thur fell motionless, while Altain, in
sudden revulsion of feeling, knelt over
him like an image of despair gazing "
To his Intense relief, Arthur gratd
unlly revived. Adam got him to his
feet, sipported him to the little cabin,
and laid him on a couch. Then he
"I don't forget what's owing to you
as a gentleman, but in this thing we
are man to man. Either tall me she
can neter be my wife-tell me you're
lying when you say you haven't
harmed her-or else write her a let-
ter, telling her the truth that you
won't see her again."
Arthur struggled, suffered, prom
lsed, and Adam half comforted, left.
not knowing that there, in the waste
basket, hastily stuffed under the pa
pers, by a woman's silk kerchief.
When Hetty read Arthur's letter,
she ges way to despair. Then, i,
one of those convulsive motiveless ao
tions by which the wretched leap from
temporary sorrow to life-long misery,
she determined to marry Adam. The
big carpenter was in the seventh
heaven, Hetty fitful and depressed.
For family reasons, the marriage
could not he hastened and as the
months passed, she determined at any
cost to seek out Arthur, whose regi
ment was at Windsor. Telling her
uncle she was going to Snowfield to
see Dinah for a little change of scene
before her marriage, she started out,
Ignorant of the country, panicstricken
and forlorn, eager to shun every fa
miliar face, longing only to feel again
the protection of her lover's arms.
On Arthur. meanwhile, life seemed
again to smile. After rejoining his
regiment, his sharpest regrets for
Betty began to lose their sting. Sctn
he was transferred to Ireland, ond
there learned that by his grandfa
ther's death he was lord of the manor.
Home he came, fast as chaise and
post boy could drive, home to dear
old Hayslope sleeping on the hill,
where he was to live his life, mar
ried to some lovely lady, respected and
appreciated by his tenants. A pile of
letters awaited him. He opened the
first, and with a violent convulsion
shaking his whole frame, read the
words: Hetty Sorrel Is in prison for
the crime of child murder.
Clutching the letter, Arthur rushed
from the room like a hunted man, and
springing to the saddle of a waiting
horse, set off at a gallop.
That very evening a young woman
knocked at the door of the village jail
There was about her a deep concen
tntted calmness which induced the
jailer to grant her request to visit
the condemned cell. As -the heavy
door closed behind her, she hesitated
before the pallet bed.
"Hetty, Dinah is come to you."
Slowly, very. slowly, Betty rose and
was clasped in Dinah's arms.
"You won't leave me, Dinah?'
"Ne. Betty," whispered Dinah. "FTi
stay with you to the last. But Hetty,
there is someone else in this celL"
"Who?" whispered Betty, fright
"Someone who has been with yon
all your hours of sin and trouble. It
makes no difference, Betty, whether
we live or die. We are in the presence
of God. Conftes the sin you have com
mitted against your Heavenly Father.
Let as kneel together. He is here."
There in the silence and darkness,
Hetty, who through her trial had at
like a stone image, poured forth her
"It was because I was so miserable,
Dinah. I didn't know whese to go. I
tried to kill myself, and I couldn't. I
went to Windsor to find him. He was
gone, and I didn't know what to do.
I daredn't go home again. Then the
baby was born . . . I did do it,
Dinah. I buried it in the wood--the
little baby. It cried. . . I heard
it all night-and I went back. And
then I thought I would go home, and
all of a sudden I saw a hole under a
nut tree, and it darted over me like
lightning I'd lay the baby there, and
cover it with grass and chips. I
couldn't cover it quite up, Dinah. I
thought somehody'd come and take
care of it. Dinah, do you think God
will take away that cry and the place
in the wood, now that I'vrye told every
"Let us pray, poor sinner," breathed
Dinah. "Let us pray to the God of
Comforter and comforted, t telr
prayer was heard. Two days later,
in the very shadow of the scaffold,
Arthur Donnithorne brought a hard
Though spared from death. Betty
was sentenced to transportation. Di
nah returned to her works of mercy
at Snowfield. In remorse and shame,
Arthur Donnlthorne went back to the
army, while Adam Bede, squaring his
shoulders to the world, turned again
to his workbench.
For him all the joy of life seemed
over, and never would he have thought
of seeking it again had not his moth
er dropped Into his heart one day the
name of Dinah. Long and soberly he
thought, and then he went to find her.
Copyright, 1919. by the a*ost Publishing
Co. (The Boston Post). Copyright in the
United Kingdom. the Dominions, its Col
onle and dependencies,. under the copy
right act, by the Post Publishing Co.,
Boston, Mass., U. 8..L All rights rm
DEVILFISH UGLY CUSTOMER.
There are plenty of monsters to tL.
sea. such as the giant devilflish. or
manta, which grows to be over S2
feet between the tips of Its great let
wings. The manta has hornlike pre,
eses directed forward, one at etbtk-_
side of its broad bead, and there iiis'
wellauthefltEated Inatances of a d,.
fab "ylng' throug, the watt, at
itng a boat's anchor netwe (b ISta beg
by chance, lifting the eacher aa r
lag the astonshed beat...) OMkI~
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