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HtffoöäsffS ,c!«ty »? ö'pÖ 2o5 6 Helena, Montana, Thursday, January 6, 1887. No. 7 fISK 0. W. F!SK, A. J. FISK, Publishers and Proprietors. »st Circulation of any Paper in Montana Rates of Subscription. Weekly herald: Or * 1 Y *' ar. (i" mi Mo nths. J* Uoutli-. Whei i tiot p* pyiir I* ollars \ Post! Ijscribei Ore^ € nr, by i - Months /* A11 com mi j ? — A ? .53 00 ... 175 ... l no AILY HERALD: -.delivered by carrier SI. OOa month nail, in advance)................. $9 00 by mail, (in advance).... 2')0 lication« should be addressed to FISK BROS., Publisher.!, Helena, Montana. 111 f: old .il a 11). Wi li earnc-t longings of the soul, -ii-k affection's fond control, f ie brightening eye, tlie beaming face. Pi, w lining smile, the warm em|>race, the cheerful lieart, tlie tender voice. g,-c make my bounding heart rejoice; (>, had I these, and a strong arm ■p, shield me from approaching harm ; Und I a -oui on whom to lean When danger comes—seen and unseen— 1 , whom to tru-t, to whom apply 'ot kindne—. love and sympathy. With such a one. with such a heart, Devoid of trickery and art, • d -bare the ioys and ills of lue .W <1 prove a trusting, faithful wife. Y :t in this world, where sin and strife *re tiling ed with tlie threads of life ; Where narrow selfishness and greed so pinch th. soul on whom they feed That no high thought of moral worth Can spring from it- penurious earth ; <o wrapped in self and cold repose It can not feel another's woes. Nor sigh for others' care and grief, Nor grant one atom of relief. Where hauty man. with lordly pride, The claims of women will deride, \nd w itli contemptuous, kindly mien. Denies her as his equal queen, But arrogates to self alone All privi eges as Ids own. And with pretentions, lofty spirit. Claims for himself superior meril Hugs in his self-complacent hours. His fancied anti* ratic powers— Whv should 1 bind myself for life To t he -tern duties of a wife. Yield up my freedom—all I have— To man, and be his ahject slay e. Nav ; rather let me dwell alone I'pon my undivided throne ; Let me prolong life's lingering hours In cold seclusion s lonely bowers ; queen of tlie manse let remain, >>o e mistress of my small domain. With no o.ie near to give command, And none to make undue demand «>, iala»r, lime, and sordid pelf, ,"o lavish on his precious seif i n gratifying wild desires, Which hateful man so of requires. 1 -brink not from the scornful name Bestowed on every single dame Who—past the age which girls attain. And hurrving on with rapid stride. While gliding down life's shady side— Is looked upon with proud disdain. I do not dread—I'm not afraid — To be proclaimed a stiff old maid. 1 glory in the name, and I As such prefer to live and die. THE MAN FROM CHICAGO. TL' man from Chicago went forth with a brag i cd backed up his club with the last of his swt Ihen gathered iimre |>elf to put up on the tean prom the place where tliree brazen balls et gleam; Where he soaked his timepiece and his new ov coat In keeping his uncertain credit afloat. Like the wind on tbs lake when the winter is ke< The CL. ages w ent forward all verdant and gret Like a caunon firetmeker on the Fourth of Jn hat dub in the irorr.ing was chipiier and "fly; b nt ld;e the samecracker on the flfth of July, .at dub in the -vening was knocked high a dry; r the St. Louilboys spread their bats on 1 Jiammered he life out of the halls that tt* Lev carriei the day with their skill and tb op • the pi town ! îeir foes with a staggering skill I and the hope of the great win i lice a chicken and truly done Brut ■ mai from Chicago who staked his wh • the i*--' with never a smile; in aljack alley his fantasies float Kiac i-V-'is guard o'er his new overeoa V —St. Louis Post Dispatch A QUESTION OF ETHICS. . r Mary as my boyhood's flame. When I vas nine and she nineteen; 0 all the -vains who courting came 1er ready mswer was the same; I guess 11 wait for Johnny Green!" w hat he maid w as pleased to mean 1 will no'now pretend to claim r.nly law- she w as my queen, ■ r did anther step between Till 1 invself nineteen became. . w. I reite the fact with shame: I, annotthink my conscience clean lut Mary love appearing tame n ten ye: s' playing at the game, I cravei her sister Josephine. fairer i aid was never seen; A host <f lovers cried her fame; at had lany right to blame er wishto w ait for Tommy Green, When : at's niv little brother s name» —Walter Clarke in The Century, ! ! ' ! ! ; 1 , ' * HER ANSWER. If L C n my r ht at a dinner sat Mollie, On iriyeft there was little May Belle Who u avrays so sparkling and jolly. And v. o likes me, I fancy, quite well The fomer somehow spoke of ages; I "Now ,, y hat would you take me to be?' ked. She replied, "Of life's pages ,u; p*^ you have turned twenty-three. • B*d\ on my left, was abstracted, nd d. not our words overhear, kne- she the answer expected -1 w.ispered quite low in her ear. id « ht would you take me for, Mary!" nd ti n this small maiden perverse, m ox of abstraction, quite wary, cspcided— "For better or worse." —Samuel Williams Cooper in Life. BOIL IT DOWN. 4 ve written something witty, Soil it down; If yo ve written something pretty, Boil it down; Take t then and file away, Brin? it out some idle daj\ Read t then, perhaps you'll say, •What a pity, M ise j v. itty, kind or cruel, . las ► only fit for fueL" — Detroit Free Press. A BACKWARD reach. The jackass goes by precedent, 0 so his antics teach; Tint is to say—his argument CuttutU in backward reach. THE STOEY OF A IM By BRET HARTE [Copyrighted. 188C. by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., and published by arrangement with them.] // / £ CHAPTER L ' VITO SOUGHT IT. T was a steep trail leading over the Monterey coast » range. Concho w as ^ very tired, Concho N was very dusty, ** Concho I y was very much disgusted. To Concho's mind there was but one relief for these in surmountable diffi culties, and taat lay in a leathern bottle slung over tbo machillas of his saddle. Concho raised the bottle to his lips, took a long draught, made a wry face, and ejaculated; '•Carajo!" ' f It appeared that the liottle did not contain aguardiente, but had lately been filled in a tavern near Très Pinos by an Irishman who sold bad American whisky under that pleas ing Castilian title. Nevertheless, Concho had already nearly emptied the bottle, and it fell back against the saddle as yellow and flaccid as his own cheeks. Thus re-enforced, Concho turned to look at the valley behind him, from which he had climbed since noon. It was a sterile waste bordered hare and there by ara ble fringes and valdas of meadow land, but in the main dusty, dry and forbidding. His eye rested for a moment on a low, white cloud line on the eastern horizon, but so mocking and unsubstantial that it seemed to come and go as he gazed. Concho struck his forehead and winked his hot eyelids. Was it the Sierras or the cursed American whisky? Again he recommenced the ascent. At times the half worn, half-invisible trail became ut terly lost in the bare black out-crop of th» ridge, but his sagacious mule soon found it again, until, stepping upon a loose bowlder, she slipped and fell. In vain Concho tried to lift her from out the ruin of camp kettles, prospecting pans and picks; she remained quietly recumbent, occasionally raising her head as if to contemplatively glance over the arid plain below. Then he had recourse to useless blows. Then he essayed profanity of a secular kind, such as "Assassin," "Thief," "Beast with a pig s head," "Food for the Bull's Horns," but with no effect. Then he had recourse to the curse ecclesias tic: "Ah, Judas Iscariot! is it thus, renegade and traitor, thou leavest me, thy master, a league from camp and supi>er waiting ? Stealer of the Sacrament, get up!" Still no effect. Concho began to feel un easy; never before had a mule of pious line age failed to respond to this kind of exhorta tion. He made ono more desperate attempt: "Ah, defiler of the altar! lie not there! Look !" he threw his hand into the air, extend ing the fingers suddenly. "Behold, tiendl I exorcise thee! Ha! tremblest! Look but a lit tle now—see! Apostate! I—I—excommuni cate thee—Mula!" "What are you kicking up such a devil of row down there fori" said a gruff voice from the rocks above. Concho shuddered. Could it be that tb» devil was really going to fly away with his mule. He dared not look up. "Come now," continued the voice, "jou just let up on that mule, you d-d old Greaser. Don't you see she's slipped her shoulder? ' Alarmed as Concho was at the information, he could not help feeling to a certain extent relieved. She was lamed, but had not lost her standing as a good Catholic. He ventured to lift his eyes. A stranger an Americano from his dress and accent .—was descending the rocks toward bun. He was a slight-built man with a dark, smooth face, that would have been quite common place and inexpressive but for his left eye, in which all that was villainous in him ap parently centered. Shut that eye, and you had the features and expression of an or dinary man; cover up those features, and the eye shown out like Eblis' own. Nature had apparently observed this too, and had, by a paralysis of the nerve, ironically dropped the corner of the upper lid over it like a curtain, laughed at her handiwork, and turned him loose to prey upon the credulous world. "What are you doing here?" said the stranger after he had assisted Concho in bringing the mule to her feet, and a helpless hdlt "Prospecting, Senor." The stranger turned his respectable right eye toward Concho, while his left looked unutterable scorn and wickedness over the landscape. "Prospecting, what for?" V 'S. "Prospecting, what for f n "Gold and silver, Senof—yet for silver Most." "Alone?" "Of us there are four." 'The stranger looked around. • In camp— a league beyond," explained e Mexican. * Found anything?" •of this-much." Concho took from his : saddle 1 mgs a lump of grayish iron ore, studded here and there with star points of pyrites. ; The stranger said nothing, but his eye looked ! a diabolical suggestion. "You are lucky, friend Greaser." "Eh?" "It is silver." "How you know this?" "It is my business. I'm a metallurgist." "And you can say what shall be silver and what is not?" "Yes—see here!" The stranger took from his saddle bags a little leather case con taining some half dozen phials. Une, en wrapped in dark blue paper, be held up to Concho. "This contains a preparation of silver." Conch»'s eyes sparkled, but lie looked doubtingly at the stranger. "Get me some water in your pan." Concho emptied his water bottle in his pros pecting pan and handed it to the stranger. He dipped a dried blade of grass in the bot tle and then let a drop fall from its tip in the water. The water remained unchanged. "Now throw a little salt in tlie water," said the stranger. Concho did so. last anti y a white film ap peared on the surface, and presently the whole mass assumed a milky hue. Concho crossed himself hastily, "Mother of Go«l, it is magic!" "It'is chloride of silver, you darned fool." Not content with this cheap experiment, the stranger then took Concho's breath away by reddening some litmus paper with the nitrate, and then completely knocked over the simple Mexican by restoring its color by dipping it in the salt water. "You shall try me this," said Com-ho, offer ing his iron ore to the stranger; "you shall ■se the silver and the salt." "Not so fast my friend," answered the Granger; "in the first place this ore must be melted, and then a chip taken and put in shape like this—and that is worth something, my Greaser cherub. No, sir, a man don't spend all his youth at Freiburg and Heidel burg to throw away his science gratuitously on the first Greaser he meets." "It will cost—ch—how much?" said the Mexican eagerly. "Well, I should say it would take about $100 and expenses to—to—find silver in that ore. But once you've got it there—you're all right for tons of it." "You shall have it," said the now excited Mexican. "You shall have it of us—the four! You shall come to our camp and shall melt it—and show the silver, and—enough! Come!" and in his feverishness he clutched the hand of his companion as if to lead him forth at once. "What are you going to do with your mule?" said the stranger. "True, holy mother—what, indeed ?" "Look yer," said the stranger, with a grim smile, "she won't stray far, I'll be bound. I've an extra pack mule above here; you can ride on her, and lead me into camp, and to morrow come back for your beast." Poor honest Concho's heart sickened at the prospect of leaving behind the tired servant he had objurgated so strongly a moment be fore, but the love of gold was uppermost. "I will come back to thee, little one, to-morrow, a rich man. Meanwhile, wait thou here, patient one—Adios !—thou smallest of mules —Adios!" And, seizing the stranger's hand, he clam bered up the rocky ledge until they reached the summit. Then the stranger turned and gave one sweep of his malevolent eye over the valley. Wherefore, in after years, when their 6tory was related, with the devotion of true Catholic pioneers, they named the mountain "La Canada de la Visitacion del Diablo," "The Gulch of the Visitation of the Devil," the same being now tbe boundary lines of one of the famous Mexican land grants. CHAPTER II. WHO FOUND IT. ONCHO was so im patient to reach the camp and deliver his good new s to bis * companions that more than once the stranger was obliged to command Lim to slacken his pace. "Is it not enough, you infer nal Greaser, that you lame your own male, but you must try your hand on mine? Gr am I to put Jinny down among the expenses?" he added with a grin and a slight lifting of his baleful eye lid. When they had ridden a mile along the ridge they began to descend agaiu toward the valley. Vegetation now sparingly bordered the trail, clumps of chemisai, an occasional manzanita bush and one or two dwarfed "buckeyes" rooted their way between the interstices of the black-gray rock. Now and then, in crossing some dry gully, worn by the overflow of winter torrents from above, the grayish rock gloom was relieved by dull red and brown masses of color, and almost every overhanging rock bore the mark of a miner's pick. Presently, as they rounded the curv ing flank of the mountain, from a rocky bench below them, a thin ghost like stream of smoke seemed to be steadily drawn by in visible hands into the invisible ether. "It is the camp," said Concho, gleefully; "I will myself forward to prepare them for the stran ger," and before his companion could detain him he had disappeared at a sharp canter around curve o. the tr&iL • Left to himself, the stranger took a more leisurely pace, which left him ample time for reflection. Scamp as he was, there was some thing in the simple credulity of poor Concho that made him uneasy. Not that his moral consciousness was touched, but he feared that Concho's companions might, knowing Con cho's simplicity, instantly suspect him of trad ing upon it. He rode on in a deep study. Was he reviewing his past life? A vagabond by birth and education, a swindler by profes sion, an outcast by reputation, without abso lutely turning his back upon respectability, he had trembled on the perilous edge of crim inality ever since his boyhood. He did not scruple to cheat these Mexicans—they were a degraded race—and for a moment he felt al most an accredited agent of progress and civ ilization. We never really understand the meaning of enlightenment until we begin to use it aggressively. A few paces further on four figures ap peared in the now gathering darkness of the I trail. The stranger quickly recognized the beaming smile of Concho, foremost of the party. A quick glance at tlie laces of the others satisfied Lim that while they lacked Concho's good humor, they certainly did not surpass him in intellect. Pedro was a stout vaquero. Manuel was a slim half-breed and ex-convert of the Mission of .San Carmel, and Miguel a recent butcher of Monterey. Under the benign influences of Concho that suspicion with which the ignorant regard strangers died away, and the whole party es corted the stranger—who had given his name as Mr. Joseph Wiles—to their camp fire. So anxious were they to begin their experiments that even the instincts of hospitality were forgotten, and it was not until Mr. Wiles— now known as .''Don Jose' —sharply reminded them that he wanted some "grub," that they came to their senses. When the frugal meal of tortillas, frijoles, salt pork, and chocolate was over, an oven was built of the dark red rock brought from the ledge liefere them, and an earthenware jar, glazed by some peculiar local process, tightly fitted over it, and packed with clay and suds. A fire was speedily built of pine boughs continually brought from a wooded ravine below, and in a few moments the furnace was in full blast. Mr. Wiles did not participate in these active pivparations, except to give oc casional directions between his teeth, which were contemplatively fixed over a clay pipe as he lay comfortably on his hack on the ground. Whatever enjoyment the rascal may have had in their useless labors be did not show it, but it was observed that his left eye often followed the broail figure of the ex vaquero, Pedro, and often dwelt on that wor thy's lieetling brows and half savage face. Meeting that baleful glance once, Pedro growled out nil oath, but could not resist a hideous fascination that caused him again and again to seek it. The scene was weird enough without Wiles' eye to add to its wild picturesqueness. The mountain towered above—a heavy Rem brandtish mass of black shadow—sharply cut here and there against a sky so inconceivably remote that the world-sick soul must have despaired of ever reaching so far or of climb ing its steel-blue Avails. The stars were large, keen and brilliant, but cold and steadfast. They did not dance nor twinkle in their ada mantine setting. The furnace lira painted the faces of tbe men an Indian red, glanced on brightly colored blanket and serajie, but was eventually caught and absorljed in the waiting shadows of the black mountain, scarcely twenty feet from the furnace door. The low, half-sung, lmlf-Avhispered foreign speech of the group, the roaring of the fur nace and the quick, sharp yelp of the coyote on the plain l»elow were the only sounds that broke the aw ful silence of the hills. It Avas almost dawn when it was announced that the ore had fused. And it avus high time, for the pot was slowly sinking into the fast crumbling oven. Concho uttered a jubi lant "God and Liberty," but Don Jose Wiles bade Lim be silent and bring stakes to sup port the pot. Then Don Jose bent OA r er the seething mass. It was for a moment only. But in that moment this accomplished met tallurgist, Mr. Joseph Wiles, had quietly dropped a silver half dollar into the pot! Then he charged them to keep tip the fires and went to sleep—all but one eye. Dawn I'arae with dull beacon fires on the near hill tops, and, far in the east, roses over the Sierran snow. Birds ti\-ittering in the alder fringes a mile below, and the creaking of wagon wheels—the wagon itself a mere cloud of dust in the distant road—Avere heard distinct^'. Then the melting pot Avas sol emnly broken by Don Jose, and the glowing incandescent mass turned into the road to cool. And then the metallurgist clipped a small fragment fuom the mass and pounded it, and chipped another smaller piece and jKjunded that, and then subjected it to acid, and then treated it to a salt bath which became at once milky—and at last produced a white something—mirabile dictu!— tAvo cents' worth of silver! Concho shouted with joy ; the rest gazed at each other doubtingly and distrustfully; com panions in poverty, they began to diverge and suspect teach other in prosperity. Wales' left eye glanced ironically from the one to the other. * >' "Here is the $100, Don Jose," said Pedro, handing the gold to Wiles with a decidediy brusque intimation that the services and presence of a stranger were no longer re quired. Wiles took the money with a gracious smile and a w ink that sent Pedro's heart into his boots, and was turning away when a cry from Manufl stopped him : "The pot-*-the pot—it has leaked ! look ! be hold! see!" * He had ljéen cleaning away the crumbled fragments of the furnace to get ready for breakfast, and had disclosed a shining pool of quicksilver! Wiles started, cast a rapid glance around the group, saw in a flash that the metal was unknown to them, and then said, quietly: "It is not silver." "Pardon, senor, it is, and still molten." Wiles stooped and ran his fingers through the shining metal. "Mother of God—what is it, then?—magic?" "No, only- base metal." But here, Concho, emboldened by Wiles' experiment, attempted to seize a handful of the glistening mass that instantly broke through his fingers in a thou sand tiny spherules, and even sent a few globules up his shirt sleeves, until he danced around in mingled fear and childish pleasure. "And it is not worth the taking?" queried Pedro of Wiles. Wiles' right eye and bland face were I turned toward the speaker, but his malevo lent left was glancing at the dull, red-brown rock on the hillside. "No!" and turning abruptly aAA-ay he pro ceeded to saddle bis mule. Manuel, Miguel and Pedro, left to them selves, began talking earnestly together, while Concho, now mindful of his crippled mule, made his way back to the trail where he had left her. But she was no longer there. Constant to her master through beatings and bullrings, she could not stand incivility and inattention. There are certain qualities of the sex that belong to all animated nature. Inconsolable, footsore and remorseful, Con cho returned to the camp and furnace, three miles across tbe rocky ridge. But what was his astonishment on arriving to find the place deserted of man, mule and camp equijiage. Concho called aloud. Only the echoing rocks grimly answered him. Was it a trick? Con cho tried to laugh. Ah—yes—a good one—a joke—no—no—they hod deserted him! And then poor Concho ItoAved his head to the ground, and falling on his face, cried as if his honest heart would break. The tempest passed in a moment; it was not Concho's nature to suffer long nor to brood over an injury. As he raised his head again his eye caught the shimmer of the quick silver—that pool of merry ant ic metal that had so delighted him an hour before. In a few moments Concho was again disporting with it; chasing it here and there, rolling it In his palms and laughing - with boylike glee at its elusive freaks and fancies. "Ah, sprightly one—skipjack—there thou goest— come her». This way—now I have thee, lit tle one—come, muchacha—come and kiss me," until he had quite forgotten the defec tion of his companions. And even when he shouldered his sorry pack, he was fain to carry his playmate aAvay with him in his empty leathern flask. And yet I fancy the sun looked kindly on him as he strode cheerily doAvn the black mountain side, and his step was none the less free nor light that he carried with him neither the brilliant prospects nor the crime of bis late comrades. CHAPTER III. ß w L A ? m m n. r, ==fi "Could you find that spot again V' "Madré de Dios, yes. I have a mule there; may the devil flj away with her I" WHO CLAIMED IT. HE fog had already closed in on Monte rey, and Avas now rolling, a Avhite, billowy sea above, that soon shut out the blue breakers below. Once or twice in descend ing the mountain Concho had over hung the cliff and looked doAvn upon the carving horse shoe of a bay below Lim—distant yet many miles. Earlier in the afternoon he had seen the gilt cross on the white-faced Mission flare in the sunlight, but now all was gone. By the time he reached the highway of the toA\-n it was quite dark, and he plunged into the first fonda at the wayside, and endeavored to forget his woes and his AA'eariness in aguar diente. But Concho's head ached, and his back ached, and he A\as so generally dis tressed that he bethought him of a medico— an American doctor—lately come into toAvn, Avho had once treated Concho and his mule Avith apparently the same medicine, and after the same heroic fashion. Concho reas oned, not illogically, that if he were to be physicked at all he ought to get the worth of his money. The grotesque extravagance of life, of fruit and vegetables in California was inconsistent with infinitesimal doses. In Concho's pre vious illness the doctor had gi\ - en him a dozen four-grain quinine poAvders. The following day the grateful Mexican walked into the doctor's office—cured. The doctor was grati fied until, on examination, it appeared that, to saA-e trouble, and because 1ns memory was poor, Concho hail taken all the powders in one dose. The doctor shrugged his shoulders and—altered his practice. "Well," said Dr. Guild, as Concho sank doAATi exhaustedly in one of the doctor's two chairs, "what now?" Have you been sleeping again in the tule marshes, or are j'ou upset with commissary whisky! Come, have it out." But Concho declared that the devil was in his stomach, that Judas Iscariot had possessed himself of his spine, that imps were in his forehead, and that his feet had lieen scourged by Pontius Pilate. "That means 'blue mass,' " said the doctor, and gave it to him—a bolus as large as a mms ket ball, and as heavy. Concho took it on the spot, and turned to go. "I have no money, Senor Medico." "Never mind. It's only a dollar, the price of the medicine." Conclio Poked guilty at having gulped down so much cash. Then he said timidly: "I have no money, but I have got here what is fine and jolly. It is yours." And he handed over the contents of the precious tin can he had brought Avith him. The doctor took it, looked at t he shivering volatile mass, and said: "Why, this is quick silver!" "Concho laughed. "Yes, very quick silver, so!" and he snapped his fingers to show its sprightliness. The doctor's face grew earnest "Where did you get this, Concho?" he finally asked. "It ran turn the pot in the mountains be yond." The doctor looked incredulous. Then Concho related the whole story. "Could you find the spot again?" "And you say your comrades saw this?" "Why not?" "And you -ay they afterward left you—de serted you?" "They did, ingrates!" The doctor arose and shut his office door. "Hark ye, Concho," he said, "that bit of med icine I gave you just now was worth a dollar. It was worth a dollar because the material of which it was composed was made from the stuff you have in that can—quicksilver or mercury. It is one of the most valuable of metals, especially in a gold mining country. My good fellow, if yon know where to find enough of it, your fortune is made." Concho rose to his feet. "Tell me. was the rock you built your fur nace of red?" "Si, Senor." "And brown!" "Si, Senor." "And crumbled under the heat?" "As to nothing." "And did you see much of this red rock?" "The mountain mother is in travail with it." "Are you .sure that your comrades have not taken possession of the mountain mother?" "As hoAv "By claiming its discovery under the min ing laws, or by pre-emption?" "They shall not." "But how will you, single handed, fight the four: for I doubt not your scientific friend has a hand in it?" "I will fight." "Yes, my Concho, but suppose I take the fight off your hands. Now, here's a propo sition: I Avili get half a dozen Americanos to go in with you. Yon will have to get money to work the mint*—you Avili need funds. You shall share half Avith them. They will take the risk, raise the money, and protect you." "I see," said Concho, nodding his head and winking his eyes rapidly. Bueno!" "I will return in ten minutes," said the doctor, taking his hat. He was as good as his word. In ten min utes he returned with six original loeaters, a board of directors, a president, secretary, and a deed of incorporation of the "Blue Mass QuicksilA-er Mining Co." This latter was a delicate compliment to the doctor, who was popular. The president added to these neces sary articles a revolver. "Take it," he said, handing OA'er the weapon to Concho. "Take it; niv horse is outside; take that, ride like h-1 and hang on to the claim until we come!" In another moment Concho was in the sad dle. Then the mining director lapsed into the physician. "I hardly know," said Dr. Guild, doubt fully, "if, in your present condition, you ought to travel. You have just taken a pow erful medicine," and the doctor looked hypo critically concerned. "Ah,—the devil!" laughed Concho, "what is the quicksilver that is in to that which is out? Hoopa, la Mula!" and, Avith a clatter of hoofs and jingle of spurs, lie AA as presently lost in the darkness. "You were none to soon gentlemen," said the American alcalde, as he dreAv tip before tbe doctor's door. "Another company has just been incorporated for the same location, I reckon." "Who are they?" "Three Mexicans—Pedro, Manuel and Mig uel—headed by that d—d cock-eyed Sydney duck, Wiles." "Are they here?" "Manuel and Miguel, only. The others are over at Très Pinos lally-gaging Roscom mon and trying to rojie him in to pay off their whisky bills at his grocery." "If that's so we needn't start before sunrise, for they're sure to get roaring ilrunk." And this legitimate successor of the graA'e Mexican alcaldes, having thus delivered his impartial opinion, rode away. Meamvhile, Concho the redoubtable, Concho the fortunate, spared neither riata nor spur. The way was dark, the trail obscure and at times even dangerous, and Concho, familiar as he was with these mountain fastnesses, often regretted his sure-footed Francisquita. "Care not, O Concho," he would say to him self, " 'tis but a little while, only a little while, and thou shalt baA'e another FranHsquita to bless thee. Eh, shipjack, there was fine music to tby dancing. A dollar for an ounce—'tis as good as silver, and merrier." Yet for all his good spirits he kept a sharp lookout at certain bends of the mountain trail; not for assassins or brigands, for Concho was physi cally courageous, but for the Evil one, who, in various forms, AAas said to lurk in the Santa Cruz range, to the great discomfort of all true Catholics. He recalled the incident of Igna cio, a muleteer of the Franciscan friars, who, stopping at the Angelus to repeat the credo, saAV Luzbel plainly in the likeness of a mon strous grizzly bear, mocking him by sitting on his haunches and lifting his paws, clasped together, as if in prayer. Nevertheless, with one hand grasping the reins and his rosary and the other clutching his whisky flask and revolver, he fared on so rapidly that he reached the summit as the earlier streaks of dawn were outlining the far-off Sierran peaks. Tethering his horse on a strip of table land, he descended cautiously afoot un til he reached the bench, the wall of red rock and the crumbled and dismantled furnace. It was as he had left it that morning; there was no trace of recent human visitation. Revolver in hand, Concho examined every cave, gully and recess, peered behind trees, penetrated copses of buckeye and manzanita. and listened. There was no sound but the faint soughing of the wind over the pines below him. For a w hile he paced backward and forward with a vague sense of being a sentinel, but his mer curial nature soon rebeled against this mo notony, and soon the fatigues of the day began to tell upon him. Reoourse to his whisky flask only made him the drowsier, until at last he was fain to lie down and roll himself up tightly in his blanket The next moment he was sound asleep. His horse neighed twice from the summit, but Concho heard him not Then the brush crackled on the ledge above him, a small frag ment of rock rolled near his feet, but he stirred not And then two black figures were out lined on the crags beyond. "St-t-t. ' whispered a voice. "There is one lying beside the furnace." The speech was Spanish, but the voice was Wiles'. • The other figure crept cautiously to the edge of the crag and looked ov T eu. "It is Concho, the imbecile," said Pedro, contemptu ously. "But if he should not be alone, or if he should waken ?" "I will watch and wait. Go you and affix the notification." Wiles disappeared. Pedro liegan to creep down the face of the rocky ledge, supporting himself by chemisai and brushwood. The next moment Pedro sto«xl lieside the unconscious man. Then he looked cautiously around. Tlie figure of his companion was lost in the shadow of the rocks above; only a slight crackle of brush betrayed his av here abouts. Suddenly Pedro flung his .-erape over the sleeper'» head, and then threw his powerful frame and tremendous weight full upon Concho's upturned face, while his strong arms clasped the blanket pinioned limbs of his victim. .There was a momentary ui> heaval, a spasm and a struggle; but the tightly rolled blanket clung to the unfortu nate man like cerements. There was no noise, no outcry, no sound of struggle. There was nothing to be seen but the peaceful, prostrate figures of thetAA O men darkly outlined on the ledge. They might have been sleeping in each other's arms. In the black silence the stealthy tread of Wiies in the bush above was distinctly audible. Gradually the struggles grew fainter. Then a whisper from the crags: "I can't see you. What are you doing?" "Watching!" "Sleeps he?" "He sleeps!" "SoundlyP' * ■ "Soundly." "After the manner of tbe dead? 7 "After the fashion of the dead!" The last tremor had ceased. Pedro rose as Wiles descended. "All is ready," said Wiles: "you are & wit ness of my placing the notifications?" "I am a witness. 4 "But of this one?" pointing to Concho. "Shail AA'e leave him here ?" "A drunken imbecile—why not?" Wiles turned his left eye on the speaker. They chanced to be standing nearly in thj same attitude they had stood the preceding night. Pedro uttered a cry and an impreca- | tion, "Carramba! Take your devil's eye from me! What see you? Eh—what?" "Nothing, good Pedro," said Wiles, turning his blank right cheek to Pedro. The in furiated and half frightened ex-vaquero re turned the long knife he had half draAvn from its sheath, and growled surlily: / w. There uas a momentary struggle. "Goon, then! But keep thou on that side, and I will on this." And so, side by side, listening, watching, distrustful of all things, but mainly of each other, they stole back anil up into those shadows from which they might, like evil spirits, haA'e been poetically evoked. A half hour passed, in which the east brightened^ flashed and again melted into gold. And then the sun came up haughtily, and a fog that had stolen across the summit in the night arose and fled up the mountain side, tearing its white robe9 in its guilt y haste, and leaving them fluttering from tree and crag and scar. A thousand tiny blades, nest ling in the crevices of rocks, nurtured in storms and rocked by the trade winds, stretched their wan and feeble arms toward Him; but Concho the strong, Concho the bra\e, Concho the light hearted spake not nor stirred. [TO BE CONTINUED.] Everyday Problems in Mathematics. If it takes a boy twenty-live minutes to cut three sticks of wood to get supper by, how long will it take him next morning to walk three miles in the country to meet a circAis coming to toAAix. A fanner spends $13 per year for tobacco, and his wife spends $3 per year for shoes. Hoav much more does her shoes cost than his tobacco? It is twenty-eight feet from a certain kitchen door to the Avood pile, and 2,35S from the same door to a corner grocery. How much longer Avili it take a man to walk to the wood pile than to the grocery, estimating that he walks three feet per second! A young lady who is out with hcr beau drinks four glasses of soda water at five cents each; two glasses of ginger alo at five cents each; eats three dishes of ice cream at ten cents each; four pieces of cake valued at thirty cents, and throAvs out a hint for a box of candy Avort u fifty cents. What does sh» cost him in all? A tramp tackles a farmhouse and a clog tackles the tramp. The tramp passes over thirty-two rods of ground per minute, while the dog passes over forty-eight rods. How long will it take the dog to overhaul him!— Detroit Free Press. ANXIOUS TO BE ENTERTAINED. Bobby (to young Featherly, who is making an e\'ening call)—Will you speak a littla French for me before you go, Mr. Featherlyl Featherly (smiling)—Certainly, Bobby, it you wish it Bobby—I do. Ma says your French is very amusing. An interesting point about Mr. Welch's work is that he is paid by the piece for it, his pay being from $2 to $3 per item—never less than $2. Another illustration of the way in which his humor is appreciated is the fact that nearly all of his work is translated into the French papers and published there as original. Some American papers translate it back into English unde" the title of "French Fun." When the jokes get back into English tbe second time "then," Mr. Welch says, "they are funny."