Why let chilled fingers and a
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You can have a warm dining room - cer
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Your fire never goes out in
Cole's Original
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Even the cheapest grade of coal put
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Burns anything-soft coal-hard coal
-lignite or wood.
It is guaranteed.
COME IN AND SEE IT.
See the name "Cole's" on the feed door
of each stove. None genuine without it n '
Chambers.
Now is the time to
make money in Malta
Real Estate.
Town lots on easy terms
HARRY COSNER
THE VARIETY STORE
We are preparing for a large Xmas this year
4 regardless of the cry of war. Our store will be *
turned over to old ST. NICHOLAS in a few-days. T
COME EARLY FOR IT'S THE
EARLY BIRD THAT ALWAYS
CATCHES THE WORM.
If we can't supply your Xmas
wishes we will order for you.
THE VARIETY STORE
NOTICE if
If it is photographs you want,ILand of course
W you do, have them taken before the holidays, as W
the photo gallery will, in all probability, be closed
during the hardest part of the winter. Do not
wait till a day or two before Xmas as it will be im
possible to finish photos in a hurry during the
holiday rush of business.
Diset's Studio
IS THE PLACE.
Malta Montana
a 11-***-*:,
lkieDetective
of ketod
Copyright, 1913. b~y
ý ""liesketh Prichard
PROLOGUE.
One of the most interesting
characters in fiction, November
Joe, well deserves to take his
place in the hall of fame along
side his more famous prototype,
Sherlock Holmes. In the woods
Sherlock Holmes no doubt would
have been of little value in ferret
ing out criminals, because wood
craft was not in his line. In the
city, too, November Joe would
not have compared in merit of
achievement with Holmes, but in
the woods every leaf and twig,
stone and bit- of moss where it
has been in contact with human
beings or animals tells its story
to the keen eyes and analytical
mind of November Joe. -
CHAPTER I.
November Joe.
IT happened that in the early au
tumn of 1008 1, James Quaritch of
Quebec, went down to Montreal.
I was at the time much engaged
in an important business transaction,
which after long and complicated nego
tiations appeared to be nearing a suc
cessful issue. A few days after my ar
rival I dined with Sir Andrew McLer
rick, the celebrated nerve specialist I
and lecturer at McGill university, who
had been for many years my friend.
On similar occasions I had usually
remained for half an hour after the
other guests had delarted, so that
when he turned from saying his last
goodby Sir Anriew found me choosing
a fresh cigar.
"I cannot call to mind, Jlames, that I
invited you to help yourself to another
smoke," he said.
I laughed.
"Don't mention it, Andrew; I am ac
customed to your manners. All the
same"
Ie watched me light up. "Make the
most of it, for it will be some time be
fore you enjoy another."
"I have felt your searching eye upon
me more thanonce tonight. What is it?"
"My dear James, the new mining
amalgamation the papers are so full of,
and of which I understand that you are
the leading spirit, will no doubt be a
great success, yet is it really worth the
sacrifice of your excellent health?"
"But I feel quite as usual."
"Sleep as much as usual?"
"Perhaps not," I admitted unwill
ingly.
'"Appetite as good as usual?"
"Oh. I don't know."
'UU, I COBT KnOW.."
"Tush, man, James! Stand up."
Thereupon he began an examination
which merged into a lecture, and the
lecture in due course ended in my de
cision to take a vacation immediately
a long vacation, to be spent beyond
reach of letter or telegram in the
woods.
"That's right! That's right!" com
mented Sir Andrew. "What do the
horns of that fellow with the big bell,
which you have hanging in your office,
measure?"
"Fifty-nine inches."
"Then go and shoot one with a
spread of sixty."
"I believe you are right," said 1, "but
the worst of it is that my guide, Noel
Tribonet, is laid up with rheumatism
and will certainly not be fit to go with
me just now. Indeed, 1 doubt if he
will ever be much good in the woods
again."
"But what if I can recommend you
a new man?"
"Thanks, but I have had the trouble
of training Noel already."
"I can guarantee that you will not
find it necessary to train November
Joe."
"November Joe?"
"Yes, do you know him?"
"Curiously enough, I do. He was
with we as dishwasher when I was
lap with Toip Todd some years ago
in Maine. He vas a boy then. Once
w1he ,W weie on the ian'eb and. were
'ovel'tpkpR. by a very;.bad uowet9,,
the boy bad a differenge .ot
opinion hs to the direction we should
take."
"Aid Joe was right?"
"He' wa," said I." "Todd didn't like
it et allt"
"Tom' Todd' had quite a reputation,
hadn't be? Naturally be would not
like belig put right by a boy. Well.
I that must be ten years ago. and Joe's
twenty-four now."
"And a good iamn in the woo4s, you
say?"
"None better. The most capable on
this continent. I verily believe. If .Joe
is free and can go with you. yoiu will
get your moose with the sixty inch
horns. I understand that he has en
tered into some sort of coutrpct -with
the provincial police."
"writh the police?" . epeated.
"Yes. He is to help them in such
cases as may lie within the scolie of
his special experienca. He is. indeed,
the very last person I should like to
have upon my trail had I committed
a murder. He is a most skilled,-ind
minute observer, and you must. not for
get that the speciality of a Sherlock
Holmes is the everyvdy routipe of a
woodsman. Observation anrd 6dduc
tion are part and parcel of his daily
existence. He literally reads as he
runs. The floor of the forest isi his
page. And when a crime is committed
in the woods these facts are yery for
tunate. There nature is the criminal's
best ally. She seems to league herself
with him in many ways.. Often she
delays the discovery of his ill doing;
she covers his deeds with her leaves
and her snow; his track she washes
away with her rain, and more than
all she provides him with a vast area
of refuge. over which she sends the
appointed horns of darkness. during
which he can travel fast and far."
"All things considered, It is surpris
ing that so many woods crimes are
brought home to their perpetrators."
"There you are forgetting one very
important point. I have been present
at many trials and the most dangerous
witnesses that I have ever seen have
been men of the November Joe type
that is, practically illiterate woodsmen.
Their evidence has a quality of terrible
§implicity. They give minute but un
?nswerable details. All their experi
ences are first hand. bhcy bring for
ward naked facts with sledge hammer
results. Where a town bred man
would see nothing but a series of blur
red footsteps in the morning dew, an
ordinary dweller in the woods could
learn something from them, but No
vember Joe can often reconstruct the
man who made them, sometimes in a
manner and with an exactitude that
has struck me as little short of mar
velous."
"I see he has interested you," said
I, half smiling.
"I confess he has. Looked at from
a scientific standpoint I consider him
the perfect product of his environ
ment. There are few things I would
enjoy more than to watch November
using his experience and his super- 1
normal senses in the unraveling of t
some crime of the woods."
I threw the stump of my cigar into c
the fire. C
"You have persuaded me," I said. "I t
will try to make a start by the end of
the week. Where is Joe to be found?"
"As to that, I believe you might get E
into touch with him at Harding's farm,
Silent Water, Beauce."
"I'll write to him."
"Not much use. He only calls for
letters when be feels inclined."
"Then I'll go to iarding's and ar
range the trip by word of mouth."
"That would certainly be the best
plan, and, anyhow, the sooner you get
into the woods the better. Besides,
you will be more likely to secure Joe
by doing that, as he is inclined to be
shy of strangers."
I rose and shook hands with my
host.
"Remember me to Joe," said he. "I
like that young man. Goodby and
good luck."
* *f * * * * *
Along the borders of Beauce and
Maine, between the United States and
Canada, lies a land of spruce forest
and of hardwood ridges. Here little
farms stand on the edge of the big
timber, and far beyond them, in the
depths of the woodlands, lie lumber
camps and the wide flung paths of
trappers and pelt hunters.
I left the cars at Silent Water and
rode of' at once to Harding's. the house
of the Beance farmer where I meant
to put up for the nlgh;. Mrs. Ritd
ing tereeiyed a gaenhauly and placed
an tieel eA4Rpper Ieore . te. Wtgll
I wap eating 'It .*quq blew 9p 'with
tbh fall of darknes. and. I ws glad
enough to and myself in safe :
Outside the wino was sa*i ni
among the pines which incioledlthe
farmhouse, when inside the telephbie
bell rang, which odnneeted Us .ith
St. George,. forty ntties distmnth *sng
suddenly and Incongruously ; igh
above thIe elassor of fhe tor Moises:
Mrs. Usarding took up lI(e uler.
and this Is what I heard.
"My busband wsn't be home tonign.
he's gone Into St. George. No, 1 hay
no one to send. But how can I? Ther
is no one here but me and tI e chil
dren. Well, there's Mr. Quaritch, ,
sport, staying the night. No, I couldn.
ask him."
"Why not?" I itnquired.
Mrs. Harding shook her head as she
stood still holding the receiver. Shr
was a matron of distinct comeliness
and she cooked amazingly well.
"You can ask me anything," I urged
"They want some one to carry a
message to November .loe." she ex
plained. "It's the provincial police on
the phone."
"I'll go."
"Joe made me promise not to send
any sports after him." she said doubt
fully. "They all want him now he's
famous."
"But November Joe Is rather a friend
of mine. I hunted with him years ago
when he lived on the Montmorency."
"Is that so?" Her face relaxed a
little. "Well, perhaps"- she conceded
"Of course I'll carry the message.,"
"It's quite a way to his place. No
vember doesn't care about strangers
le's a solitary man. You must follow
the tote road you were on today tif.
teen miles. turn west at the deserted
lumber camp. cross Charley's brook
Joe lives about two acres up the far
bank." She lifted the receiver. "Shall
I say you'll CtO?"
"By all means."
A few seconds later I was at the
phone taking my instructions. It ap
peered that the speaker was the chief
of police in Quebec, who was of course
well known to me. I will let you havE
his own words.
"Very good of you, I'm sure, MIr.
Quaritch. Yes, we want November
Joe to be told that a man nanuey1
Henry Lyon has been 869t1p h9 s I airp
down at Big Tree portige, on D.epbt
river. The news came in just 'non.
telephoned through by a lumberjack
who found tre '15dy. Tell Joe, plheie,
success means $50 to him. Yes, that's
all. Much obliged. Yes, the sooner
he hears about it the better. Good
night."
I hung up the receiver, turned to
Mr's. Hntrdin: and told her the facts.
"So Novenmbier is connected with po
lice work nos?"
"Didn't you read In the newspapers
about the 'Long Island Murder?'
I remembered the case at once; it
had been a nlre days' wonder of' hend
line and comment, and now I won
dered how it was that I missed the
mention of Jine's name.
"November was the man who put to
gether that puzzle for them down In
New York," Mrs. Harding went on.
"Ever since they have been wanting
him to work for them. They offered
him $100 a cionth to go to New York
and take on detective jobs there."
"Ab, and what had he to say to
that?"
"Said he wouldn't leave the woods
for a thousand."
16"7.1l",
"They otTered him the thousand."
"With what result?"
"He started out In the night for his
shack. Came in here as he passed and
told my husband he would rather be
tied to a tree in the woods for the rest
of his life than live on Fifth avenue.
The lumberjacks and the guides here
abouts think a lot of him. Now you'd
best saddle Laura-that's the big gray
mare you'll find in the near stall of the
stable-and go right off. There'll be a
moon when the storm blows itself out."
By the help of the lantern I saddled
Laura and stumbled away into the
dark and the wind. For the chief part
of the way I had to lead the Mare, and
the dawn was gray in the open places
before I reached the deserted lumber
camp. and all the time my mind was
busy with memories of November. Boy
though he had been when I knew him,
his personality had. Impressed itself
upon me by reason of a certain ade
quate quietness with which he fulfilled
the duties, many and disagreeable.
which bearded old Tom Todd took a
delight in laying upon his young shoul
ders.
I remembered, too, the expression of
humor and mocking tolerance which
used to invade the boy's face whenever
old Tom was overtaken by one of his
habitual fits of talking big. Once
when Tom spoke by the camp fire of
some lake to which he desired to guide
me and of which he stated that the
shores had never been trodden by
white man's foot Joe had to cover his
mouth with his hand. When we were
alone, Todd having departed to make
some necessary repairs to the canoe, I
asked Joe what he meant by laughing
at his elders.
"I suppose a boy's foot ain't a man's
Snyways." remarked Joe innocently,
and more he would not say.
The sun was showing over the tree
tops when I drew rein by the door of
the shack, and at the same moment
came in view of the slim but power
ful figure of a young man who was
busy rolling some gear Into a pack.
He raised himself and, just as I was
about to speak, drawled out:
"tI i Mr. Quariteb, you! Who'd a'
thought It?"
The young woodsman came forward
with a lazy stride and gave ie wel
come , Witll a curi ,p .ge*tienepp that
was one of- his . ersvctlias oR, but
which left me in doubt as to its. geni
ality. .
I feel. that I shall never be able to
describe Novemler. Suffice it to say
that the loose kage bQ, I reuiePbered
had developed Kito oie of the finest
spectisp of ' h that ever grew
up ahtbo 5 the bilsamn trees; near six
feet tall, lithe and powertul, ,with, a
neck like. g coluwn "0d P siraight tea.
tured tfce the sheer' goo looks of thi
son of the woods were" diii'binb. He
was clearly also not only ;l product
but the master of his~environment
"Well, well, Mr. Quaritch, many's
the time I've been thinking of the days
we had with old Tom way up on the
Itoustik."
"They were good days, Joe, weren't
they ?"
"Sure, sure, they were!"
"I hope we shall have some more
together."
"If it's hunting you want, I'm glad
you're here. Mr. Quaritch. There's a
line buck using around by Widdeney
pond. Maybe we will get a look at
him come sunset, for he 'most always
moves out of the thick bush about
dark." Then humor lit a spark in
his splendid gray eyes as he looked
up at me. "But we'll have a cup o'
tea first"
November Joe's (by the way, I ought
to mention that his birth in the month.
of November had given him his name),
as I say, November Joe's weakness
for tea had in the old days been a
target upon which I had often exer
cised my faculty for irony and banter.
The weakness was evidently still alive.
"I had hoped to have a hunt with
you, November," said I. "Indeed, that
is what I came for, and there's nothing
I'd like better than to, try for your red
deer buck tonight, but while I was at
Harding's there was a ringup on the
phone, and the provincial police sent
through a message for you. It appears
that a man named Henry Lyon has
been shot in his cahp at' Big Tree
portage. A lumberman found him and
phoned the news into Quebec. The
chief of police wants you to take on
the case,. He told me to say that Suc
cess would mean $50."
"Thait's too bad," said Joe. "I'd.
sooner hunt a deer than a man any
day. Makes a. fellow feel less badlike
when he comes up with him. Well,
Mr. QuaritchlI - must be, getting off,
but you'll be wanting another guide.
There's Charley Paul, down to St.
Amiel.".
"Look here, November, I don't want
Charley Pdial br any other guifde but
you. The fact of the matter is that
Sir Andrew McLerrick, the great doc
tor who was out with you Jast fall, has
told me that I have been overdoing it
and must come into the woods for rest.
I've three months to put in, and from
all I hear of you you won't take three
months finding out. who murdered
Lyon."
Joe looked grave. "I may take more
than that," said he, "for maybe I'll
never find out at all. But I'm right
pleased, Mr. Quaritch, to hear you can
stay so long. There's plenty of grub.
in my shack, and I dare say that I
shan't he many days gone."
"How far is it to Big Tree portage?"
"Five miles to the river and eight
up it."
"I'd like to go with you."
He gave me one of his quick smiles.
"Then I guess you'll have to wait for
your breakfast till we are in the
canoe. Turn the mare loose. She'll
make Harding's by afternoon."
Joe entered the shack and came out
again with one or two articles. In
five minutes h@w had put together a
tent, my sleeping things, food, ammu
nition and all necessaries. The whole
bundle he secured with his packing
strap, lifted it and set out through the
woods,
CHAPTER II.
The Crime at Big Tree Portage.
HAVE sometimes wondered wheth
er he was not irked at the pros
pect of my proffered companion
ship and whether he did not at
first intend to shake me off by obvious
and primitive methods. I had my work,
and more than my work, cut out for me
in keeping up with November, who, al
though he was carrying a pack while I
was unloaded, traveled through the
woods at an astonishing pace.
He moved from the thighs. bending a
little forward. However thick the un
derbrush and the trees, he never once
halted or even wavered, but passed on
ward with neither check nor pause.
Meanwhile, I blundered in his tracks
until at last. when we came out on the
bank of a strong and swiftly flowing
river. I was fairly done and felt that
had the journey continued much
longer I must have been forced to
give in.
November threw down his pack and
signed to mae to remain beside it, while
he walked oif downstream, only to re
appear with a canoe.
The rustle of the water as it hissed
against our stemn and the wind in the
birches and junipers on the banks soon
lulled rae. I was only awakened by the
canoe touching the bank at Big Tree.
Big Tree portage is a recognized
camping place situated between the
great main lumber camp of Briston
and Harpur and the settlement of St.
Amiel, and it lies about equidistant
from both. A small shelter of boughs
stood beneath the spreading branches
of a large fir; the ground all about was
strewn with tins and debris. On a bare
space in front of the shelter, beside the
charred logs of a campfire, a patcb.of
blue caught my eye. This, as my sight
grew accustomed to the light, resolved
itself into the shape of a huge man. fle
lay upon his face, and the wind tint
tered the blue blouse which he was
wearing. It came upon me with a
shock that I was looking at the body
of AIeliy Lyon, the anurdered man.
Noevonber, ptvadp: up ituthecasqe.
a wood, pieture n .fir buekl a librt
and Jeaq ur qd the1 I si
died up and dow., star-tatt'the baIk.
A J Its i f b 1n " : l # asbore.
I 4I qa istaQ In ,tie
eailo. i ewisb ic I 'wied the
mnove.mets ot my do( paublei. First
bie went to the body and examined it
with' minute care; next be disappeared
wi tbi* 'tb,4bitet, :dame' out and stood
for a'dWilaute staaidtg toward the riv
er; finally,. be called to spe to come
ashore.
( To Be Continued.