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:? If you want guide and leader; myself. In command of tii* mineral department, whenever v.e "i : •.-jpcciin-r,” and a steady man of mi-Idle. ;:g \ who had been in California, ; i ,v the practl al sides of things, v hi'. 1 supposed to know the scientific. !.-• v.as Thomas Vowler, a hard and soli-i Cornishtuan, who had Just come back from the \\ <. t, ten years ago, with a very .r : , < v'.'toting to livo with coratort upwi it. l’-u . unluckily, he had Invested It in somo tin n ines which had broken don a l here ht was, at forty-live, obllg : ' rt ■ ;aln. and 1 ve his wife and i i :• n in his father's care, while ho d: i sev-. thing for them. The other four w, i lice youi men. who had joined us throm \ lov cf adventure chiefly, and : t ir own <: . >. to wit. Valentine • r a < a* : id •» m in. who had taken up . ■! Ch rley Reid, who had been Kew : 1 lowd the green beyond the g'«.d Kit Oroueher. a relative of the jun ti r; aiivl Jack Woodbrldge, an iri :r,.n, ..nd w< U known member f tl Alpin Club. Take us all round, it would not have l>een wise for a score of tl : • Mvag* s in the \v;orld to try con clusions w ith us. A: 1 t': am >ng whom we now were pi I Su&neti ms, Simas, or Soanes—be? ii ; cut off from the rest of the world for nine mont' s out the twelve by barriers quiti im; is?able, have been described from the best Roman time. as the w ildest. an.': h ast civilized of all the hu t it 1 -aw hlte app ar m ftor was hire. Trav dors say that • • ;de r* v. rt to a light and even j, .. su-e tint, after seven judicious courses of dipping, scrul bing. rinsing, lathering, -pine the skin against the grain, wring in hot suds, and tinaliy strigillslng v. h a ’ >r- >-halr pad lined with splinters ■ .a- !nt. Rut little as I cared where I went or what 1 did. (haunted night an l y th- in. of the : ithle-a Julia.) wh n Re: ! and Parker implored me to put t 1 id . n of the village through that V • id with a phe foot l, if he shou'd !>5 I cot my outfit, the ferttre tr»r . a u • 1 to me r tre «en meant, no v,-• - v. tor U3, th' n tani irlory. urtlep^ r b leved that they oucht •** *** m all—R bert Fblpps, the r tlvt <i Iv me m at of N ituro.1 Th y wen not prepared for tl i t lug remains as a study for ever, Prince Mulach was not so He put water about him more m once, when the sun tame upon . u* ii man, a cultured man •ov.. Iona furrows up my bat-:;" . s David, prophetic of the corduroy i. .. i Si uuo i—a man in advance i . chronicU Caucausian; which re p to the date of four thousand ... a~o. He was also a man oi tine ranee. Ra. r h: l uev r touched .. s <-;.in. and no feminine scissors had u-a. . . i him. In a word, he was inl> the i .'.rue as Nature made him— hi. .1. in cording to the course . noble Prime received us kind ly, and gave us a large house of his w- 1 in on the hanks of the ir :> ar 1 ari. The house had been ud down about a year ago, be ,. of some murdi r which the poor ... i L been obliged to commit ou , ■. . ie *'f his own vak v. l ut f..n l it much more convenient and >: nt; i smuch as the insects had n s< r< bed, and were taking inoie ■ mu- than S'man could be expected to ,,r from the confusion. Prince had never seen seven men, tiil ■ Mra . it at him, but were ready to : i [,■ v.i . a un the.r own account,.and • > pay for every sheep or gout which • i,-v ■_;ht 1 * compelled to roast by the laws of Nature. As vet I had not the privilege of un arming his language, which was or- in of some kind; but Bob suiu that i came to this: arc indeed noble men trom far. ; r.i i n.as cr of these people, al -.gh they call themselves free and IV not afraid of them; but on e d>.cr hand keep your tempo.s ves should t*. nipt \ou. 1 > f • ■ • ■ rythlng that ye take & foutth ■ the price they seek of you. Pc j .st, 1 i if ye discover gold, rentier • o ha f the value. But above all ware any bear to harm him. or to has ten h n of his steps. The bear is a mt i' r • r, away, unless he cannot U: otherwis . A royal prince of the Russian throne,himself descended from t • b trs. comes every year to shoot t cm 1 ri ; 1 : no one of lower race vr- O noble nn>n of a nation that aur t sit d wn, and knoweth not how » sleep until the sun has left the heav , pledge yourselves that ye will not meddle with any bear that goeth on : ]. js. All other creatures ye may slay; and if perchance good manners UIH,> \ ou to send bodies of stags, or ... i . or tuts, or any other creatures e tiiix’h savor whin laid upon the coals by living men. Mulach of ancient race will thank you. CHAPTER II. CAPl'T APR I DEKERO. We found just gof.i enough to make in feel certain every morning of tind • more; there is quite enough there to pay well for working, if once the . '.t spot be hit upon. 1 'tit in such a \ r- .ion of write beyond waste, , r -.i head of mountain, it takes ■ >uth after month to know whore you and then the snow comes back on. I’he natives, moreover, are f ghtfully jealous, cunning, tieuihti its. a'd hard to cesl will., at .east in this valley of the lngur. We did them ji i wrong; we paid them well for all w© required of them, and most of oux ' I to ex-1 l:Kut the r lit ?: ; v. ■ i It for them. | And yet t y iu ivc•], or some of j them. did—: :r ■ «I>• ■ i s \v< • i ,'te friend ly—to exterminate ovr little band, and share our goods among them. But before ibr-v -..io that wicked mime, and vV i Lying to like them, ami route tk nr st of all the little good material r them, suddenly i was taken into a \ y different range of thought. A mail n burst into my world—which vt,.. 11: t a dark and empty hole—a maiden such as the greatest poet may have made in the grandest moments of his inspiration, but never clap; d eyes on. With one eve throiu a a golden tube and many crystal k :;s , he may have im agine d that he .a lovely being like I my Leila. But when he opened the j other eye, and looked outside the cyl ! inner, where was she all gone into I swirls and sweeps, like a nymph of the i new illustrators! But my nymph was a real thing. One afternoon toward the middle of July. I was returning from the Nakra Pass and the southern spurs of Minghi . Tau to Pari, our general headquarters, and instead of following the usual track 1 I must needs attempt a short cut ■ through a thick pine forest. Suddenly ! I heard a piercing shriek, and saw something In ht fue'ering and Hashing swiftly am ng die dark trunks, and before 1 could think, a slender form lay i ..-itlng in my arms. I was car rying my gun, and she had fallen against the sot!;, and her flushed cheek was bruised bv the long double bar rel. “Are > m hurt?" I asked in Georgian, which i cou I now si >ak pretty well; i but her panting breast rose and fell i without a \ • '. and she opened her ' red lips only f; r a gasp. For a mo 1 rueut her lm e eyi • full of terror met mine, us if to tell me something, and then with a shudder and a spring of dread she turned to look over her ■ shoulder, but still kept her trembling arms round mo. Rushing up the hill, | with his little eyes afiame. and his long tusks ramping, and his filthy snout tucked up. was a monster of a boar, a fury of a bear, big enough to rip up the biggest tree in the wood. "Darling,” I -aid. though it was early | , to call her that, but the sense of pro tection grows quickly; “one moment excuse me; lit n 1 will hold you again. She tried to cling to me; I could not use my arms, and the boar would have had not swooned away or fainted. I had just time to lay her behind a tree and swing my gun round, when the monster was upon me. 3 'e would aa\e ! ripped my front up. for that was what h ■ aimed at; but without any presence , of mind whatever, simply as a man strikes out when struck at, 1 brought the muzzle down up a 1 is muzz'c with a clash, pullc’ the trigger, and he was care ■ Yhere v t s nothin ' lna\e : about it; he was the braver animal, had not yet attained to our knowl Ige of mechanics. Then LciVre the smoke was lost, in e cloud of upper branches, up came at lovely damsel, who had been in ich a tremble, and she said in tae veetest voice I have ever heard, “I ink I shall love you.” ••i don't think about it. T am sure shall love you!" 1 answered in my >st Georgian, being carried away by r beauty, and sweet timidity, and joy < f h ving saved her. She looked at me doubtfully for a oment, as if to learn whether I came , to her id’ as. and then a sett mush er as d the lustre under the fringe o. »r Tarce brown eyes. For with the lick thought of a girl, she had glared her own fair s If f) a*lc- u n.“l ill he think of me?"-and had <us >vered the disarray caused b> the ild tl ht through the wood.^ • Monsieur will excuse me. she .aid irh (i . -ne: a look, ml uisappetned In less than a minute, what wonders ,e had d.m >! The clusters of uer ba.r ere bound in modest and decorous rmvi- '. the curves of her exquisite -Men form were fold-l back into the ;(j the pride of conscious beauty ecked by self-control was on the face ;.lt ha,i V". n all terror and dismay. - tnbled more than she did now, and ‘ h-.jf afraid to look at lu-r. But was too sweet and tender-hearted i : rm bo long afraid of her. ‘•Docs Monsic o' appi -ve o. w ’.at 9 .c Docs he think it worm the pel the soft white palm, and said: “Is this your sorrow, darling?” "Is it proper to call me that already? T know not the manners of the Fran ghese. I am a Georgian, a lady of Georgia, very well born, you should understand, and my grandfather is not far away. But my sorrow is very deep. I have lost my darling, my own little dear—very much dearer to this Leila than she can possibly he to Monsieur. Come and I will show you. But bring your gun. There may bet another mon ster there.” I followed her down the steep, up which she had flown In such dire ter ror. and as we came to the body of the hoar, which had rolled for a hundred yards or more from the place where I had shot him, she stopped and laid a crooked branch upon it, and pro nounced some words which I could not understand. Then, as we hastened on again, 1 asked her what the meaning was. ‘‘That he may go to the realms of Satan. Within an hour after death, the cross made on his wicked body would have saved him from all evil. But now none dare to place it there. I have marked him with the badge of Satan, the crooked branch from which lie took the fruit that poisoned all man kind. You will not think it cruel of me when you see what the miscreant has done.” She leu the way with such loveiy walking, such flexure of fair neck like a lily in the breeze, nnd so many glimpses of damask *heek through the coy iuterceptlon of playful locks, that I followed in a dream of beauty. Then we came to a slender pole laid across the deep ravine wherein the Ingur roamed like a terror far below; and to my dismay she walked along the trem bling stem, balancing her graceful form \ ithoitf even spreading her arms, but trusting to the supple grasp of either foot cased in yellow leather. On the further brink she turned round, and smiled, and said: “You must not. at tempt it, sir. With boots like yours it would be death. It was thus that I escaped the beast, who had to go far below and swim. But a leap can be made from your side further up the channel, If you desire.” My desire was to be with her, and I thought of neither heels nor neck, but made the fearful jump and landed, without half a foot to spare. “N’o Suanetian oduld do that!” she said, as she received me; and I, like a villain, made believe to be overcome as she had been, that she might so en courage me. But my panting was of no avail. She began to be wide-awake about me, now that she knew me for her own. “Oh, poor unhappy little one. So sweet, so brave, so loving! Eager to c amend alone against a monster a thousand times as large. And I. like a coward, let thee die. O Yaldo, the sweetest of all sons of dogs, shall I never hear thy merry bark again, and never kiss thy cold black nose? But tiion slmlt have an honored grave, and thy spirit shall ever go before me." Of me she had no thought whatever, ns with both palms laid upon the ground she leaned over the body of a white dog. of what breed I know not—for they are not particular about that in these parts—while her tears foil thicklv upon his fluffy ears. and manv a sob choked her clear young voice. This poor little fellow had brought his fate upon himself by bis sportive turn, having roused the boar from slumber and infuriated him for in their ordinary mood they do not at t;.ck mankind. “Lot me bury him/* I said wLh a fortunate snap-shot of thought, let me bury Leila’s dog, where no wolves can dig him up.” T ike light she was upon me with her eves, (brightest of all eyes that ever brought light and love Into this gloomy world!) and the dew of sorrow shook end shone with the radiance of soft comfort. • Would you? Will you? How shall T love you? I was going to put the poor darling in a tree, because of those miserable jackals. But the earth is the place for its when we die. Only it is hard rock, and I cannot quarry.” •‘Sweetest of all maids.” I said, be irg scarcely at all in my right mind now. with the power of her glances, pnd Imr tender ways, and the thought r f what her holy love must be. when •'• , ve was so much of it for a cross : ■ ; ,!■ ■. •■] \v ml die down fifty feet ,,v \i|'7'/\ F DOWN ON His MUZZLE WITH A CLASH, AND I DROCChr M\ MLZZLBTOW^ u ^ ^ _ brave risk of his life? Or would he rather have let Leila dj*it he had found lime to think ot it• T .l’elie,t creature I had ever seen . , i,«r knees before me. She ^ ,.i. 'most beautiful clear dark L:V i-';-tt * r of- mankind has bos wed up •?>. one of his daugh !. rsl ami sbe smiled with a brilliance of . t|a. conquest thy w. re maMiik. rartowtar. and she was not ashamed ot it. ••How can you tell? ’ton must not until vou are certain of it, T‘U v -i’ -' ' 1 “ answer to my gaze. shw°, lhl\'niana from the ground as Uiird teke? wing, and tuen turned her • • O'i'< In.l'keHa*Jis that all?" I asked in Sorrowful tone, for it seemed as , she wore saying good-by to me IJ you run away like that, would that I ^Set^mav^y that by and by: ; bm>° l^ulfthel “ ttSKSK* 1 S0t^tfa*is I am not an ungrateful, wretch. h>ut. oh. 1 am in such sor r°'-’e came back and gave me both her • ;u a,Mi one Of them was bicadln, ebb f and wiped the wound, and stop 1 ni-n I kias wtich I always carried, and then 1 kiss into the solid rock, to receive a smile from you, when I looked up. Only I must have my mining tools. I will bring them in the morning. Conte and meet me here, and you shall see. e watched me with comfort and gratitude, while ^placed the mangled body of her poor little pet in saiety from the hateful prowlers of the night; then sup started and blushed, as the sound of a horn rang among the rocks, and above the roar of Ingur. “It is grandfather. Oh. for the wrath lie will be in! He loves me not; he loves nobody, and all the people are afraid of him. Hasten out of sight, or lie will smite you.” “1 have ns much right here as he has,” 1 replied, with true British feel ing, “that is to say. unless the land belongs to him; and I don't see how it cau do that, for it all belongs to Prince Mulach whose guest 1 am.” “Mulach's guest! An Englishman— ore of those gold-hunters, protected at Pari by those Cossacks! What bus iness have you* here, sir, with my grand-daughter?" The tall old man. who had come thus suddenly round the corner of a rock uvon v :s heavily armed, and my IjT-n was at hie mercy; for I had thrown down rcv gun before I leaped the river. \ revolver and a dagerer hung in his bolt and he carried a heavy double barrelled gun, with which lie seemed ready to demolish mo. Bat Leila sprang between us, and laid both hands on his weapon. “He has saved my life! What harm has he done to thee? Grandfather, if you love me not, jet you cannot do without me. This gentleman has saved my life. You shall shoot me, be fore you shoot him!’* “Sir, I an: under no protection of the Cossacks.” This I said, because he had pronounced that word so bitterly. “There are Cossacks at Pari, because of a recent murder, and because the prince’s house I sen 1 irn« d < >wn. But wc have ir ' ' ; to do with them, and cannot speak th« ir language. Wo are Eng;i,:hni : i. re on private busi ness. and meddle with no politics.” “And you speak Georgian not so ba Ay,” the old man answered, in a mildi r tone. “Leila, let me hear how he saved thy life.” I sauntered away, and improved the prop, ctiou of poor Yuldo's body, while tii0 gentle girl spoke to her stern grandfather. Then he came up to me, with a race more friendly, but no smile upon it, and small courtesy, and re garded me as if ho know but little of Great Britain’s position in the uni verse. “For what you have done I am in your debt, though any man of courage must have done the same. Also I beg your pardon for imputing to you any alliance with those accursed Cossacks. Mulach is a time-server, and liis uamo is not pleasant to ears like mine. A gentleman will take no advantage of an accident which has enabled him to ho of service to a lady. Sir, I will re quite it, if I can; but I am not in my own country here." Then he turned away with a stiff salutation, which meant—“the next overture must como from pie;” and I said to myself—“Who the deuce tan lie he? 1 suppose I shall never see Leila again. But what a darling! What a love!” Aha! Let old men do what they like and believe themselves lords of the world they have outlived, and jailers of they joys they can no longer under stand. Leila contrived to make him stumble on a stump; and while he was sitting down and rubbing his stifL knees, she conveyed to me, though I was a long way off, a signal that neither of us was to be dismayed, and that the would be here in the morning. (To ho Continued.) A TRAGEDY OF FRIENDSHIP. ‘This last little Indian scare reminds me of something that happened some twenty years ago,” said the ranchman, flicking the ashes from his cigar. “I might call it the story of a modern Damon and Pythias but for the de nouement, which, i warn you. is not a particularly joyful one. still, if you fel lows don’t mind the tragic, here gees: "About twenty years ago two young follows, whom we’ll call Tom and .lack, started out to seek their fortunes ranching in Arizona. The ranch fever was just then about at its height. England and Australia as well as our own east were sending out idiots in droves to the west. Young fellows, many of them well educated and of good birth and brought up to every luxury, simply went wild over the primitive freedom of that adventurous life until, with capital exhausted, downright hard work and pviva* .on in evitable. they came to wish—heaven knows how bitterly some of them wished it—that they had never ex changed the commonplace comforts of civilization for the intoxicating uncer tainty of frontier life. These two youngsters, having a tidy bit of capital between them on coming of age, con cluded to invest it in cattle, and fixed upon Arizona as the most fatorable spot for their financial experiment. “In a surprisingly short time they had conquered every difficulty and made a good start. They built them selves a snug little house, were joint owners of quite a bunch of cattle, and had several boys as helpers. They had always been the closest of chums, these two, horn in the same town, schoolmates in boyhood, classmates at the university—you never knew two chaps more devoted. “Tom was a big fellow, blond, with a mddy skin, honest blue eves, and a laugh—well. I tell you it did a fellow good just, to hear him rdar In his hearty way when any ore got off a joke. "Jack was a little fellow, a bit deli cate. not. really equal to roughing it. He used to complain that Tom did the biggest share of the work: hut loin never would hear a word of that, and while they smoked before the rough stone fireplace, in their one room, of evenings, to hear Tom defer to Jack’s judgment and consult, about business matters was to think Tom s little part ner one of the biggest and cleverest business heads of the age. • For some time there had been ru mors of an Indian outbreak. The Apaches were getting restless and al ready several small bands had stolen awav from the reservation to hiding places in the mountains. There was, of course, a big scare, people leaving homes and property, especially where there wore women and children to be considered. "Tom and Jack talked it over and decided to stick to the ranch. To leave was to lose everything, the hard-won result of months of toil; for, of course, if they deserted, the hoys couldn’t be expected to stay. There was a bare chance of tilings blowing over, and in any case watchfulness and systematic defense might save them, If the worst did come. “So the ranch was provisionen ior <i sippe and fortifled in every way: adja cent outbuildings. which might through nearness to the main building become dangerous, were removed—everything, in short, which could insure safety when the critical moment arrived was anticipated and done. “One dnv a cowbov from a rietehbor ing ranche came riding in like mad. hat gone, blood streaming down 1 is face. “His tale was of the worst. His ranch had been atacked. the house burned, and every one killed but him setf lie. although closely pursued, had succeeded in eluding the Apaches, who were, however, close behind him. "Tom—he was naturally the leader— at once called in all the hoys; doors •Mid windows were barricaded, last de tails of defense completed. 'I he horses were brought inside to a place already prepared for them, so that if need be there would be means for attempted night and possible rscar^. Every man had his station, sone- at the loopholes, some rt the water casks. m readiness to put out the hres which wouid inevi tahlv be started. “It was not a long wa c In a ' iT short time the ranch w.is surrounded bv a laree b und of whooping devhs, who evidently expected to find the Ponco ns unprotected as the one they pa.i j! r destroyed, for. without a m<> mont s pause, they made a wild rush toward it. 7 “Thev by a ^itnprlncr ^oi ley from the various loooholes and fell back with considerable loss, which, as _ a wholesome lesson, had its effect, but they undoubtedly roused the Indians to a still greater pitch of frenzy. “Three days went by, nays of con stant vigilance and steady fighting, j The Apaches tried every dodge known j to their mode of warfare without any I success. Tom's really masterly line of defense and the plucky co-operation of the boys seemed to make it probable that they would be able to hold out un til the arrival of the troops, who were known to be hot on the trail of the In- i dians. The greatest danger to be fear- j ed was fire. Already the Apaches had i made several attempts to fire the house ! by hurling burning brands against it. i but the boys at the water cask* had 1 been too quick for them, while the aim j of those at the loopholes was so deadly I that none of the Indians had succeeded | in getting near enough to r ally start a j blaze which would be dangerous. “Still, it was an anxious time. The ^ days went by, the strain was beginning | to tell on them all; several of them j were wounded, and suffering had made j them lose heart; they had given up ; hopes of the troops or of tiring out the Apaches. The Indian loss, indeed, had ; been so heavy that everyone knew the j price which would be exacted by savage revenge. Still, there was nothing to do but to hold on. The Apaches lay hidden, but if by chance anyone showed himself at the ranch there wa3 an In stant rain of spattering bullets. “To complicate matters, the water supply began to run alarmingly low; there was barely enough for the horses ! and men. none to spare for the lavish 1 use demanded in putting out even a ; small blaze. The suspense was horri- j ble. Tom saw that something would have to be done. That something was very suddenly precipitated by the In dians themselves. “Creeping up as close to the house as | possible, they made a series of rushes ! at the side least defended, and each time, despite the loss of one or two more of their number, succeeded in throwing a lot of brush up against the I house. This was as dry as tinder and a iast well-directed brand set fire to the heap. | “Water was at once thrown on the flames, but they were almost Immedi ately beyond control. “‘Boys,’ said Tom. as the heat grow momentarily more intense, ‘we can i dio like rats In a hole. There’s only one chance. We must cut our way through. The horses are here; we'll , go out in a bunch. Some c>f us are sure to be dropped, but some of us may pet j through. It’s our only hope; if we I have to die it'll be with our boots on j and our guns in our hands.’ “The men answered with a ringing | cheer. It was wiiat they wanted—to j die. if need be, with their bools on; die , fighting. , . t . i i “ ‘Jack.’ said Tom. as he tiphtenod j his saddlegirths. and looked carefully | i at every strap, ‘Jack, dear old boy, you j and I go out together. We've done our j best to savo the ranch, but they've , downed us at Iasi. We’ll show them . ! what we're made of. though. Steadily, now. boys, until I say go;’ “No one faltered, even in that oven of crackling flame, although the exul tant yells outside indicated only too plainly the welcome which awaited them. The wounded had been fas-1 tened to the saddles, the horses were | ready—none too soon, for the animals were quivering with fear. The door i was thrown open, the signal given and | with the well-known wild cowboy yell j they dashed out. i “Straight as a bullet, in a solid bunch, all yelling like demons, they rode for the Apaches. Taken by sur j prise, but only for a second, by the ! sight of the horses, the Indians rushed to their own ponies. Whoops and i shots rang out, but close together the little band rode, Tom and Jack gallant j ly leading. “To right and left they emptied then revolvers, while many a red devil bit the dust, and also, alas, many a saddle was emptied, until at last they were through—all that was left, that is. j “‘Hurray!’yelled Tom. ’Now for a j race! They are after us, Jack. But ! never mind; we’ll make straight for Seven Mile canyon. If we can only get through safe and sound they’ll never catch us, and then it’s clear thirty miles to Dolores.’ “His gaze swept the ranks. Only five of them left, and that bloodthirsty pack in the rear! Even his splendid, buoyant spirit quailed for the moment. "Then as he looked at Jack—Jack j game, but weakened by the siege, pale from excitement, blood-stained, hardly human in appearance—his nerve camo back. With set teeth he dashed on. Crack! One more empty saddle—an other man gone. As they reached the canyon the last man tumbled—only Tom and Jack bad survived the deadly I hailstorm of lead. nut. as Tom's un 1 spoken prayer of gratitude for escape ! formed itself, Jack fell forward on the j neck of his horse. “ ‘My God! You’re hit!’ “’Never mind; don’t stop,’ and Jack clung to the pommel of his saddle for support. They were in the canyon now. threading its rocky labyrinth with cautious haste. “Tom, with thankfulness, heard the distant shouts grow fainter. How horribly livid Jack’s face was in the * dim light! j “ ‘There's no use; we’ve got to stop, j he said, springing from bis horse. | Here, let me fix you up.’ And ns be , spoke he bandaged the wound, a nasty ■ one in the side. riOlfl on, J8Ck; JUU inuai imm un until we get through the canyon.’ There was a savage light in Tom's eyes. ‘Can’t you manage it?' “ Til trymurmured Jack faintly, ami as the sounds of pursuit again came nearer both men grimly urged i their horses to a faster pace. Loss of Mood was telling on Jack. Tom saw with anguish that he could barely keep his seat on the horse, nh, for a chance j to exert his strength for this weaker ' companion, his boyhood's, manhood’s trusty comrade! To die on the field of battle was nothing, but to die cornered, trapped, perhaps tortured—God, it wan too much! “The canyon was nothing more than the bed of an old. dried-up stream, full of bowlders and loose stones. It. was dangerous work dashing through at full speed, but there was no time to pick their way; they could only trust to luck. "Suddenly Tom’s horse came down ! with a crash. He had stepped into a 1 hole and broken his leg. Luckily 1 om i was unhurt by the fall. ) "•Quick! Up behind me,’ grasped ! Jack. ,, , "The Indians were at the mouth or I the canyon. They soon gained rapidly i upon a wearied horse carrying double, j and presently a shout announced their discovery of the prostrate hor.^e. "Tom's soul sickened within him. Safety on'v thirty miles away. Life. I but life for both? Impossible. “He had rapidly reviewed the situa tion as they traversed the iast few hun dred yards of the canyon. A jaded horse, a double burden; one wounded almost unto death—for Jack was al ready a dead weight in Lis arms—all ■ the noble, chivalrous quality of Tom's strong nature asserted itself. Jumping from the saddle as they reach*] thd entrance to the canyon, ho rapidly un fastened Jack’s cartridge belt, Uiretf his rifle to the ground, and wound hia lariat with a few quick turns around the almost unconscious man, fastening him securely to th ’.die. N “‘Jack, dear old chap, you go on. I’ll hold them here.’ "‘No, no,’ JaC: < niggled feebly, hia tone was agonised. ‘With me, ToCi— or—die—together.’ “ ‘I’ve always been the ‘boss’ and I’m so still. Ride and send back for me.’ He threw his arms once around his friend in a tight embmee. and with one sharp rut of the rope started the horse off like a shot. “Waking days afterward in Dolores from the stupor of unconsciousness, Jack found himself tenderly cared for by some of the townspeople who knew him, but unable even then to explain what had occurred. Fever set in, and for several weeks lie hovered between life and death, cons.untly raving in the delirum of Tom. culling for him, be seeching him not to stay behind. “The Apaehees had been driven back, but were not completely subdued. But as soon as Jack w. ; able to tell his terrible story a r* < uing party was organized and hurr; l to Seven Mile Canyon with all the spe d which was prudent. “At first no trace of Tom could bo found. Then behind a rock was dis covered a pile of ear;ridge shells, and* finally down in a little gully the skel eton of a man lying f ■ • downward up on the ground, one on ! of a rope tied about the neck, the over attached to a stake driven deep into tho ground. Alongside was a fairy like skeleton fastened by a thong of rawhide to tho same stake. "From these mute witnesses those familiar with Apachco methods were able to imagine th wful fate which had overtaken poor Tom. “This is what must have happened: Taking cover behind a rock Tom bod held the Indians in cheek as long as possible by pegging av..y every time a redskin gavo him tho opportunity to make one of his d<u:d shots. As his ammunition run low th . gathered closer about him. “To Tom—brave. 1 ,-oic Tom—that mattered lltrle; hi aim was accom plished. Jack was u:'e on tho road to Dolores. “He must have >„■ n surprised ana overpowered at tH•* <'ud, for he would certainly have reserved a last shot for lilmself rather than brave Indian tor ture. How'they t him prisoner ono does not know, but having suffered such severe loss a' ti • ranch and in the canyon it is i. a..I to suppose that the Apachees v.• i- wild with rage. Nothing could he ..o devilish a torture to inflict upon Tom. “They ti* l his 1 da behind him, tied his" feet, and Inking him down into sandy gully laid him on his face upon the ground, fa-;’ uin:c him by a ropo around his nock to a take. “Jn this part of Arizona rattlesnakes are more tli n n it. rous -they siinpiy swarm. It was the work of a moment to catch a big snake by means of a loop of cord at the end of a pole and to tie him by a piece of rawhide through the tail to the same stake which im prisoned Tom. “The snake, thinking itself free, tried to crawl away, found itself held by the rawhide, and, savage with anger, struck at tho nearest tiling—poor Tom's face! ••Hut—mark the fiendishness of the torture—the snake coulu not quite reach Tom. "The rope was just long enough to prevent the reptile from touching Tom, not long enough but that Tom must feci the agonizing possibilty of being bitten. “Again and main the snake struck, but fell short. Poor Tom! Parched with thirst, hungry, baked by the sun, taunted by his captors, what must have been bis though!s! Did he not feel that friendship had cost him too dear?** “My Cod! i \s too awful to contem plate—” “Ho must have been tempted to crawl near the snake and end it ull. “Finally tli • shower counted upon by tho 'Apaches came. It refreshed both Lhe snake and tie* man. but—the effect of moisture upon the hempen rope was to shrink it! “Cun you understand? Can you see poor Tom, digging lus toes into tho sand,holding back with might and main as tho pressure of tli" rope slowly brought him nearer and nearer to his fate? , u . “Upon the rawhide t • r In had a different effect; its'. • I it length ened it. _ _ “The snake, feeling invigorated by the rain, again tried to crawl away. Again it was held ok; a-aln angry and vindictive, it struck at lorn, tins time a little nearer his face and again closer, as Tom, despite Ins superhu man effort, was being pulled toward the stake by the shortened rone. “At last tho snake vtru< !c homo. “Can you Imagbe tho iw'ul agony tho lingering death, the bones-- picked ! v tl vult ' 1 : <1 !<• Tom, who died to save a lrb-ud bah. how this smoke gets into one's eyes.^ Tt was not the i oke C at troubled the ranchman’s <•> hi. cigar nod long since gono out. In the dead silence which followed his thoughts, to j i l " by his expres sion, were fur away. “By Jove, that a man! ejacu lated the Idiot. "Hid you know Tom . —ach!” for just th*n the cowboy caught him a tnoi-!. b* uti:ul kick on the shin. , .. “I,” said the ranchman, huskily, i—• was Ja"k.“—New b oik lribnne. PRAISEWORTHY ACTIONS. Bridget Kelly i< iy)—"do yiz win? t' conflssion yist< r<: V. did yer. An yez eonflssed all 1 ■ k- J,'s v/i‘ v0 ® from me th’ monk. I Officer Keegan "Oi did. An Father Malone said he dMn't blame me. Bridget Kelly—“l-o siu he dlont blame yez?” . Officer Keegan -"He uin—ne m thot wuzn't a ni 'it a^> ur a" wuz charity.”- I’1 ' • •__ FORTH COM IN'1'. INFORMATION. Parifihorur— I*■ -r what is tho exact nature of the un a between tho soul and the body? The R. v. Dr. Fourthly—My dear broth er. there are boi ‘ m f rlea 1 have never attempted to r- ''rtle- ,Jut 1 hrive a young friend, f. n-v. O. How- Wise, a r. c, r.t crradii.’.tf our thcologi-al mi nary, who is v.ri-it - a s-rmon on that v-ry subject, and wTI iver it one week from next Sunday. J> 't Ml to go and hear him. NOT OOOD EVIDEhTH. "Het any duck-? ‘ "Well, I fd o d -ay bo. Here's a phore praph we bad t k n at the club house with ail that we-—' But the ou -Honor turned nway. was a sport man himself and knew all about that kind of game.