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SUNDAY’S SERMON Following 13 the sermon of Rev. G. A. Webber at M. E. church Sunday: It la fitting that, before wo cro3o into the new year, we look bazk over tbo way that we liavo come, and dis cover If we can, the hand of God in oim* lives anrl work. Thsro is among men a disposition to magnify our sorrows and forget our blessings. I am sure that if wo could, r.a we look backward, see a flowed wherever wo have received a blessing, we would say that we have been traveling a way that is strewn with flowers. This psalm begins wiih the word praise, and Its lest word is song. Surely it is fitting that we should read from it the expression of ore who lias, known Clod’s blessings through anolh-| or year and gives exp rest ion to Hit gratitude in his heart, in: such baa*' tlful language as, “Thou crowr.est j the year with thy goodness.” Wo are completing the circle of, another year. Very soon the bolls will ring out the old ar.*l ring in i tho now. Before wo have '. !• > • ol 11)11, wo should think onc? mere of the joys and sorrow.; that have: come to us during the se liter, il . K - • view the basons we hav? l -arr.**.!. and lay carefully our plan.' for Mi?' future. Wh:n this has bc:n dove \. •! may wirely apply to cur own liven the words of the Apoetl • Paul when , lie sai l. ‘‘Forg Mtiug those things j •vM.-h i'ij 01 ir.d. ar.d r• • liinrr forth j »vato those things which r? before.i 1 prt i . tow:ird Mi- mark for tii prize | of th'* high call’! g ot God in i iri Jesus.” Mcr-t men run for cu > kind of prize in lit*'. Their success in tr*r* raoe clvtends very larfe’y upon get ting ;• so .1 start. Wo v. ill r.or n ko the }i t:;ss in tho year that Is t:- 1 for? t fiat v - ought tj mol:?, if we t: ry into that y?:r the burden? year t'at !•> :!; sing. TliL is iii i title that ou-ht to . xaruinc he k ok that v i».r? kotplr.g of our live as dir .oT.ily r. 3 the n. : »rch:;nt ?x-1 amine his ledger. We will probably find : this bock of life, a bad a< ounta. Accounts y.i angry words; that V..T3 spoken. Scut? de.ds per formed that were not just as they, should have h en. Sr: Juti • left, undone, and some opportunities un improved. In the straighten!: £ up! of the ledger of life, that e may be-1 gin th? new ysar In a right manner j and with th? greatest assurance of. success. The wrongs of the old year should b? righted rs far as it is j in cur power. Gcrtitr.ticn .T c’ ld be | made if we hnv? defrauded any one either by taklr..? from tloin their earthly tr?nsure cr th; r good name. | If some one has wrongrd us we cannot afford to carry over into tho new year any grudge, or any spirit of unfergh'ness, to mar our happi n ss or hinder us In th.- way of suc cess. The a w year is an unwritten book. Its pages are clear and whit : if wo do not make it the best book of nil the books cf all the years, if will b? because w? do not live up to ( our opportunities. Wp have, know I- j edge now that we did not have at I tho beginning of the year that is dying. We ought to L? bettr men and nobler women than we v.or? at the beginning of li»ll. We ought to have more influence with others. We ctaght to know ourselves better, and I be able to accomplish more for Clod and his kingdom because of the ex periences we hav? passed through in this old y?ar. The other thought that should make us serious, as we cross into the new yc:.r Is. that what we have done can nev r be changed. We cannot get back to yesterday to change one word or one act of our lives. The record we have written with our lives in 1911, will stand for .ever as It has been written. It is useless for us to giiev? about It now l even if It Is not as we wish it were, but we can determine to write the record of the new year ns wo will want to meet it. In the Judg ment day. Our success in the new year will depend very largely upon the pre paration that wo have made In this year. Every year’s work, is the foun dation upon which the work of tho succeeding year must be built, if we have been faithful to Clod, scattered th? seed of the word among m?n and watered it with our prayers and tears, we ought In the new' year to Teap from our sowing a bountiful harvest. If we hav? been diligent in our business pursuits. and upright in our dealings with men. this ought to bo the best preparation for the great est success In the new year, in the business world. I want to say in this place, to the unconverted man if lie is here, that the best preparation l he can make for the new year, is to take Jesus Christ for your savior, now that you may go over into tho year with u friend that Is closer than a brother. One who will never leave nor forsake thee. It may bo that In the beginning of this year you thought you would not let it close until you had given your heart to tho Lord, but you per mitted the first day, and then a week, and a month and % then anoth er month to slip away, and now 3'ou have com? to the last day ot the last month without giving year heart to the Lord. One cf the deceptions of the evil one that 1 fear cheats more people out of heaven, than almost any other, is tli? suggestion that there is tin:? enough yet. And when they are almost percuad-cd a multitude of people put off to sc mo unknown fu ture date • -the decision that they ought to make at once. With Cod there Is r.o tomorrow. With his today Is the day of salvation and now is th? accepted time. If there are those here who hav? put off frem time to tin. ? the decision for Christ that yc*u thought in tho beginning cf the year you would mak? before th? year should c!o.and today finds you unsaved, ! upon you tho duty of deciding now before ycu crots over into the new year. God ins beer, good to ycu In sparing your life* through another year and riving to you. y?t another opportunity to cast your let with l i.; peon 1 ? and find forgivenesa for your sins. The year has been crowned with goodness for us. First as to cur nation.: No war hr 3 devastat'd cur land a! I uMslr.t. d home . Today ;*a? mighty Chinese empire is in th * midst of a r.ivil war, the out *0:1:0 o which no n:3n car. t?ll. All the hor rors of a dr act ul war are b Mug :*n uct?d there. Italy and Turkey ar? also at war, but our beloved !an! has be:n spared through another year. No famine has com? to us. Our granrric3 run c. :r with corn. WM!? perh in a r pects oca V perity lies not b?cn quite ?rjur.i to some former y. ara, yet tl v ? fn : re main? that the* American, people are the best fed and the be3t cloth? ! cf any people in the world. Our elr ? tion.ul institutions go steadily for ward over increasing in i.u.-ir <T:i rier.ry cpd Ir influence. Cur in fluence as a nation. In tho affair of it? world v. .:*? n?vcr quite a?, great as it is today. Foreign tut Alans tail us th: : ta.is is 1. ri I. 1 nation : to :n •V; a .:hcv : 1 r.po. Goi h.u 1 . good to us an:l wo mry surely ray. because th? nation has gather?'! bountiful harvests. So war h»s «.i --vaded the land. No pcsUicnci has sw?pt away its multitudes. \V? hav prosper.d abovs any nation on th earth. Th: year has boor, crown, with goodness for us as a nation. Second. Th? year ha - ' crowa rd with goadre?* :s to eur homes. Cf all the wonders wrought by tho Gesp.l of Je- vs Christ. the Christian hom? stands among the firs:. God lms protected our ho:n?a through an other yJar. Abiding under tin? shad ow of the Almig: y, w? have known tho proteiticn and lov? about the fp.mily ircle. I trust that eom? her have .-:.?n their children give their hearts to Co! and con.. into h i church, b*rt however this may to. he hi 3 b? n toed to ycu in keeping your Ilf? through another year. I do not forget that the messenger of death hay coir.o into some hom?.- and left broken hearts desolat - homes. But nothing xuore has b?fallen v.s than is common to man. Thrse lessons have led men to decide for God and heavcMi The holiest institu tion In all the world is th? Christ ian home. And in no plae? In all tin world are conditions more favor able for the gathering of the child ren around the hearth-stone and leaching them of .Tesus, than in our beloved land. und?r the protection of Freedom’s flag. The year lvas been crowned with goodness to us as to our hom: a. Third.l come now to a very solemn nu?Btion. It 13 as to our religious experience. You have probably mad* money. I trust you have succ?ded in your business enterprises. I truet you have gained friends, during this year. I triut you have gained knowl edge. Men in the twentieth century In the land of freedom ought to b? the wisest men on the earth. But I am not so much concerned about your success In business, or the ac quiring of knowledge, us I am In whether or not you have made any progress spiritually. We ought to,be more efficient soldiers of Jesus to day than ever before. Is it not tru? that some of us have been so occu pied with our other business that w? have neglect'd the means of grace. Wo have forgotten© to pray as much as wo ought, and we have really not made the advancement spiritually that God designed w? should make. Nor that w? ought to have made. God has spared our lives and It seems to me that we ought to resolve that In the year before us we will use llie means of grace. We will not neglect onr family altars. We will give to God, both In service and in the de finite position of our worldly goods his full share. No man can afford to withhold God’s share even from a business attend point. If we are to mako progress spiritually we must deal honestly with God. The Bronze Bell By Louis Joseph Vance Author of 1 S "The Braisa Bow!" etc. ] Illustrations by Ray Ta tars I- »—T »» ' ■■■IIIMBIH ■ || Copjrrtebt S«- Lanin fni-pn Vtace SYNOPSIS. CIIAFTER I.—Uavtd Arr.br r. rC-rr’lnT ‘or ;i <luj.c-nhootlri£ \i it vvlt.i uui f:ti*nd, ■•nif.oii/ lOuuin of Tan,?! v.-> > l. *d/<:•. N’.ikomtK. com«-s upon ail ultra ’ivf- you.T? •"•'tV <**i""*uriu:i win* Imh l* • n •-i ;rn .-un'.ed oy bor horse !><«,.omliig frignt»*n*jd ;t the • >('•'.< n app a run ■ • in the r .u i of-a burly ■lind-j. Amh 'i' ij about to attach ti. • mbu. 3 ->- •- <'- l:u r 1 ijavlncp.i him that he is UROi'i-nt of t!:** Inten in., i c-fuse of i- ■ i. ii};, :-. mishap. H - <!♦-<•: 1 .-•• s lie i ;: - lull Lai ‘'hatt'Tji. **• I; r ippjinic'l n t Tl..* ad<ir*:. . - Amber • ' a »n of h!i{ii rank un<l pr- • .n < a "i ' ■ !.“ r ; hrokZ’- b>\. "T T*- ! -••1." into !:i>r hanil. disapp-'ir* in tlie r :ir.r wood. Turning to t. •• :-I -it lii.l - ia. ?’ ii»er Is antoniahrrd to iiear i; rr call "• be name. < 1•’ i'i Lit I!. M's v:‘ ;■ r.-n.i * t" S:»S • •'•c- Iml In- addie- 1 -. a lii. Mims . ;p:i.'- i- arr-iJ. dau« ; .T-r of ‘ ‘ *1 i-'arr-.U , ’* '••"•'■ I •'1 • ; 'i U.pl .'inatic rvi •• ::: India. m i , frimnis. tin- i.y.-n..-* Siia u Mu.'t.-i lia.l writ! ri ir.i >rrn:t- , V./ n •’ - hji - tn this c--Jta-l:v - rt ■ | •;'/ »to !-. • >;» h—-r-: the • •-•ting • B -to: • x ~ •• ,r t v.e ' " >’»»''*rioilfl ?»<:V. y-v-r..! n'..;. *,; 1 ;t»-r tho I 'I tin l onie :s b'.u t;ia: -J un i bronze ! )•)' sloli'n. 1 liAl-TrJi: 111 -Amber and h! friend < u - { " K > h .. *tri< on an and b - 1 '• • lost Wii*n U-j rk ;• MS ori. s on. Start n - for home in u Pout. Ul- y*w slipn ; • ••'»>■ hi th'' v.yr wit., ynaiti .io-.j-j : d .-Tii f \ l " 'or Is I -f: ri.-aro *n-J. J• -.,• im’.-rs ! * l,f . :.: .ti I . - •.. ;.. f.» i'j 1 ■ i . •* " ' a < tblu and kt;ocl;.*t f.-r adrnis- S. :*M. I 'll.'. i'Trirt IV.—'.'pc;; b :n>: j.j- - d!l- , • : i'*» > -upan: an fri-»o 1 • : i; i itu!ti,ri. whom i - U.it mot i-. Kn<- ; i. ♦.id '■'»:* appears lo b- In •n is ::a litlori•• i ft,..ton ij s'rii:.;:- ijftta -d -,>p,-ars " ’ii'i d»r. Token to lt itton. vv 1 * '* * - '•i“ '< *x and U-;,i . n i raJ J ’ - 1 "* .* '• •’ < ■" r.Ti i.m: * • * m^et »* 1 11 body of i. s 1 - ri ‘trb-r ! i^p*.rt». '•iA J *; Kft V.— Rutton s- ” a : >lver •”• » '■ s! -« •>•.-. 0f..,- t . rJ ._ 1 V • ’*• ‘ an J *a . kilt- I ) ?' J he ta » boi»on. ■ iT::-:; *■ • i i.\i*r::n vr y . .-rvmt Am ;; r • •••* • -i*<t .? *.v , ■ •' ' ‘ ' * • * ••>:. .-thing J - • . 1 • • T i .J-, UJ.-X * » i-UV. it 1 ' ir r ‘ ,r: - or pt an out war. 1 bound • i.i .n the s' -«n s dp Boonah •# i ti -« w iv ‘ .* i" 11 Mr. - !»-.*rtou ; • • It !r •• 1 ~1 . - 1 , , . . "I, ‘ : ‘‘'’ ! 1 ' f - * Uoona; arr o l-'int hi:.?* -onsta 1 ••ti* '* of th-* s-i^ntiir. . ■'> ' ' i io llndu a not-, ip-.o: ■ • ■ «•’ ■ a Is • H .... ■■ • > M ... : y l' li ' >’ ’ ’ Mm I' • . . - Jin ' ' •.1 iTrlt u.- •)..-• .i..i ”... .• -I ” r ' s ' "■ ••!... ’I- nir' lu ~ ~ -|.)i Amh-r’s s-, p . ; s are ar .- • d t: • wlilpa out hi r- -• UA!-'Tix. Tin* man w.-ww Am r 1 v «Kht » trait >r turns .to h * *T >' f oil- :. * iri Th- Jotter tells ~ m ' * uov.m :• ,s n*. ;!on t> 'a'.--, * i l.s • » a*t Mi.o J- irrel! out of • nintrv :t *:•■.--»nd muti-iy o . i.ibe'r t »u*-no A troll* about while Arrb*r r-s Jn- T » i money-1 with. Hit- r«ken. Tin man n about > -*\irrine it wii-.-n a ,?»« - (per hurled l • s the thro-it, A -r*»r. d in. ba;: 1 i Amh»-r and iiriC'H *** *in>*. ••jIAI'TKFt X - Vmber i into a H htit. Mere hi* -ompaulon. a Hindu • - ot- - * -at -mbbervi-n t , Amber a* i rnu'i )*t of •».- s-r-t or-}- r I-i. i!.-.ot iv - ni.<:a,..M \mber f>r !t"*f.»n and - i-- • n. •».T»r ti.- Token at *i.- nion---.-Jr;-.- ,-r a Amb-r re*urns to Mo hot-l to h* paiH*d .»n tim Ure*t by a bjh-i wl-.o ut myath- worda: • Tomorrow. Mar ti 1 iAPTHR NT.—Amber i -id -rstar-.’s tbot !h«* ffe Is from T.ah**r»oin*h and uteri* next i*y for Ua.-|.*elin4. ‘>ii •h- way there ho l.s halt.*.! .is **Ti;- O*o*en of th- Gateway" by :• Hindu. • XII.— On his Journev Amber un«xpe.*fd'v m**s Miss Iku— *ll traveli.i* nor: hwnrd lie wond-r* tt i«rt'iu he *-nt him to UurJ-:i; - k n e he would meet the woman h * lov*. Mm* I- arr-1! :« xr-»u:iv surpn* -.} Tn -v • antique the Journey that evening r«**tlnc lo« il Ib-.'tldtm y of tti» (Jovorn rn •» n *, t'MAPTKR XITT. —A native mysterlcusty a photograph of Mi.-u Karreil »o An.tv-r Slt«» -e-ri |* ; n hlri posstasinn, oueatJons him ibout It and he . oafeeses thnt he loves the original. II- asks h -r Vo b—come hi* wife arid *h— promt*— < to ■ II. Amb'T mail,.., that Im la in .I.* mlos» of native <-9*isb!rators i'l l U’TKR XIV —Th- next dav while Xtnber Is *irailing about, another Hindu appear*. Nppurently a rnesMe or-r from I sb-rtoudie. l|- announces tljat the myeli* hour I* at hand. The men wishes to t-*,J him to Horn- *-.-ret pla, - and [nipelleil by curiosity. Amber goes’ with hlsi. i « rra 1—1!:.-: x v.-tti- Hindu leads Am b-r «o a itiaxnin.-ent garden and leaves him In the presence of a beautiful woman wh» hml* him is her husband. TI- tries to psra*tilde h-r that hr t* not Rutton. as .1- supposes, but she insists that as he w«ars the Token ring he must be Rut ton Amber departs in a new rnuxe of “TThere’s RaikbsT* “Gone to the palace to threaten Sa l!g Singh with an army sjrps." “You know the telegraph wires are cut?” ‘v * Yes. but. how— ’* “Never mind how I know—the story's too long. The thing to do Is to get troops here without a day's de lay.'' “But*how?** “Take Rnlkos. Clarkson, and Deg gott and ride like hell to Badsbah Junction. Telegraph from there. Tho four of you ought to be able to Ught your way through.’’ But, man, my daughter!” “1 know where to find her—or think I do. No matter which, I'll find her and bring her hack to you safely, or die trying. You spoke Just now of a secret but trustworthy source of in formation: I work with it this night. I can’t mention names-you know why: but that source was !u thU room ten minutes ago. lie’s gone after your daughter now. I follow. No—l go alone. It’s the only way. I know how you feel about It. but believe me. tho thiug for you to do la to And some way to summon British troops. Now the quicker you go. the quicker I'm I can’t —daren't cl~ vo *. you're here.” Farrell eyed him strangely. *T’U go," he said after a pause. “But . . . why can t I—” “There are just two white men liv •flg, Colonel Farrell, who can go where [ am going to look for your daughter tonight. I’m one of them. The other is—you know who.” “One of us is mad,’’ said Farrell with conviction. “I think you are.” “Or else I know what I'm talking about. In either event you only hinder me now. Please go.” The Virginian followed h!m to the doorway. Farrell’s horse, a docile, well-trairsed animal, had cor.ie to the edge of the veranda to wait for his master. Otherwise the compound waa as empty as the night was quiet. Mounting, the Political waved a silent farewell and spurred off toward the city. Amber passed back through the .bungalow to tho bund. He lifted his voice and called: “Olio, Dulla Dad!” Ther? came a soft shuffle of feet on the stoiie.s behind him, and the stunt ed, white-clad figure of Doha Dad ! stood at his # side, making respectful ! obeisance. “Ilazcor!” "You damned spying scoundrel!” Arab?r cried, enraged. “You’ve been waiting there by the window, lLt iug!” “Hazoor,” the native quavered in fright, it was cold upon the water ami you kept me waiting overlong. I iandud. king shelter L c;n the v. ind. If ycur talk was not for mine ea: a, remember that you used a tongue I :l!,l not know.” "So you were listening!’’ Am! r calmed himself. “Never mind. Where’s : your boat?” “I thought to hide it in the rushes. If the ha. oor will bo patient, lor a lit tle moment . . Th? native ! dropped down ftoni the bund and ! appeared into the reedy tang!e ot’ the j lake si .r*v A minute or ?o lster Am- . :.-er saw th • boat shcot cut from the ! shore and swing In a long, graceiul curve to • steps of the bund. “Mak" haste,’’ he ordered, as ho | lumped In and took liis » lace, "if I have i. pi you waiting, as >oa say. fhen I am late.” "Nay. .*»re is time to spare." Dul'a Dad sy n the-boat round ar.d away, i ”T did b :• ’Link to anticipate your Im- ; catSenee. 1 ttowing that you would as- ; suredly come.” Ah. knew that, Dulla Dad? How diu > ju know?” "I, hazoor? Who am I to know ! aught? . . Nay. this Lave I heard’*—he paused cunningly: " You shall f. 1 tut or.e way to Kaihlapur.’” j Arab- that h * had invite 1 | this in- •! nor, was fair enough nut to j resent i and held ills prac? until he could no longer be biiiid to the fact | that th-- native was shaping a course ai.no3t . -ily from the Kaj , Mahal. - hat treachery is tiii3,*iog?” | he den.:ruled. “This is not the way-—" ‘Be n?t mistrustful of your slave, hazoor.” whined th»* native. "I do the hi.l i rg of those before whose will I am s a leaf in the wind. It is an order that 1 laud you on bund of the r yal summer pavilion, by tho nori; n shore of the lake There w ill ycu fad one waiting for you. my lord ' Hr : :r.ded on the steps of the bund •nd aited for Dulla D'td to join him; but " lien, hearing a splash of the pad dle. h" looked round, it was to find that ti e native had already put a con siderable distance between himself and !.e shore. Amber ca’.lej after h a angrily, and Dulla Bad rested upon Ills yadule. "Nay. heaven-born’” he replied. “Ht ‘ loth my responsibility end. An j other will presently appear to be your j ly.iiue Go you up to the jungly path ieuding from the bund.” The Virginian lifted his shoulders indi.Tcrently, and ascended to discover .t w ide fool path running Inland be tween dark walls of shrubbery, but quite deserted. He stopped with a whistle of vexation, peering to right and left. “What the deuce!" ho said aloud. "Is this another of their con founded tricks?” A low and marvelously sweet laugh cund' l at his olbow, and he f urned with a -.tart and a flutter of his pulses. "Ni'raini!" he cried. “Tell me not thoji art disappointed, O my king!” she said, placing a soft hunt! firmly upon his arm. “Didst thou hope to meet another here'.'’ "Nay. how should I expect thee?” His \olce was gentle though he steeled his heart against her fascina tions; for now he had use for her. "Had Dulla Dad conveyed me to the palace, then I should have remember ed thy promise to ride with me to Kathiapur. But. being brought to this place . .** “Then thou didst wish to ride with me?” She nodded approval and satis faction. That is altogether as I would have it be, Lord of my Heart. By this have 1 proven thee, for thou hast con sented to approach the Gateway, not altogether because the Voice hath summoned thee, but likewise. 1 think, because thine own beurt urged thee. Nay, but toll me, King of my Soul, lid it not leap a little at the thought of meeting me?” With u quick gesture she threw her veil a*!de and lifted her Incomparably fair face to his, and be was cnqsclous that h*> trembled a little, and that his voice shook as he answered evasive ly: Thou shouldst know, Ranee.” “Thou wilt not draw back In the Mid”" Her arms clipped him softly about the neck and drew his head ilowti so that her breath was fragrant in his face, her lips a sweet ptrll be neath his own. “Thou wilt brave whatever may be prepared for thy testing, for the sake of Narainl. who liwalts thee beyond the Gateway. O my Beloved?” “I shall not be found wanting.” Lithe as a snake, aba slipped from Ms arms. “Nay, I trust thee not!” she laughed, a quiver of tenderness in her merriment. “Let my lips be mine alone until thou hast proven thyself worthy of them.” She raised her voice, calling: “Ohe, Runjit Singh!” The cry rang bell-clear in the still ness, and its silver echo had not died before it was answered by one who stepped out of the black shadow of a spreading banian, some distance away, and came toward them, leading three horses. As the moonlight fell upon him, Amber recognized the- uniform the man wore as that of the imperial Czrre Toward Them Leading Three Horses. !: usuhuM guard of Khandawar, whll? ■he horses seemed to be etallicr.3 h? had j-.een in the palace yard, with cn otker but little their inferior in mettle i or beauty. “Now,” announced the woman in tones of deep contentment, “we will ritle! ” turned to Amber, who took her up in his arms and set her in the sad dle of one of rho stallions. The sowar surrendered to Amber the rein? of the other stallion ar.d str pred hastily aside. The Virginian took the saddle with a flying leap, and a thought later was digging liis into th.e brufe’s sleek flanks and saw ing on the bit 3, while the path flowed beneath him. dappled with moonlight and shadow, like a ribbon of gray green silk, and trees and shrubbery streaked back on either hand in a rush of melting blacks and grays. Swerving acutely, the path ran into the dusty high road. Amber heard a rush of hoofs behind him. and then slowly the gauze-wrapped figure of the qur.?n drew alongside. “Maro! Let him run. my king! The way is not far .for such as he. Have no fear lest he tire!” But Amber set his teeth and wrought with the reins until h!s mount comprehended the fact that be had met a master and, moderating his first furious burst of speed, settled down into a league-devouring stride, crest low. limbs gathering and stretch ing, with the elegant precision of clockwork. His rider, regaining bis poise, found time to look about him and began to enjoy, for all his cares, this wild race through the blue-wliit? night. They circled finally a great, round, hillside, and pulled rein in the notch of a g'gantic V formed by two long, prow-like spurs running out upon a plain whose sole, vague bound ary was the vast arc of the horizon. Before thf.m loomed dead Kathiapur. an island of stone girdled by the shal low silver river. Like the rugg=d t ed-. st:»l of some mammoth column, cliffs rose sheer threescore feet from tho water’s edge to the foot of tha outermost of its triple walls. From the notch in the hills a great stor** causeway climbed with a long and easv grade to the level of tho fir?t great gate, spanning the chasm over the river by means of a crazy wooden bridge. A gasp from the woman and an oath frera the sowar startled Amber out of somber apprehensions into \ which he had bpen p!urged by contem plation of this impregnable fortress of desolation. Gone was his lust f£r pe-il, gone his high, heedless joy cf adventure, gone the intoxication which Lad been hi 3 who had drunk deep of the cup of romance; there remained only tho knowledge that he, alone and single-handed, was to pit his wits , | against tho invisible and mighty | forces that lurked in hiding within those walla, to seem to submit to ( their designs and so find his way to the woman of h!s love, tear her from the grasp oft! e ur.seen, and w ith her ' escape. . . . Naruinl had. indeed, no need to cry | aloud or clutch his hand in order to | apprise him thot the Fye was vigilant lie himself had seen it break forth, a lurid star of emerald light suspended high above the dark heart of the city. Slowly, while they watched the star descended, foot by foot, dropping until the topmost pinnacle of a hidden temple semed to support it; and there it rested, throbbing with light, now bright, now dull. Amber shook himself Impatiently. ‘Silly charlantry!" ho muttered, Irri tated by his own susceptibility to Its sinister suggestion. . . . “I'd like to know how they manage it, though; the light itselTs comprehensible enough, but their control of it. . . . If there were enough wind, I’d suspect a kite. . . .” “Thou art not dismayed, my king?” He laughed, not quite as successful ly as he could have wished, and. “Not I. Narainl,” he returned in English; a tongue which seemed somehow better suited for service In combating the es oteric influences st work upon his mind. "What's the next turn on the program?" “I like not that tone, nor yet that tongue.” The man shivered. “Even as tha Eye teeth, my lord, so doth the Ear hear. Is It meet and wise ta speak with levity of that in whose power thou shalt shortly be?” “Perhaps not,” he admitted, thought fully. ”Tn whose power I shall short ly bo.’ . . . Well, of course!” “And thou wilt go on? Thou art not mind to withdraw thy hand?” “Not so that you’d notice It. Na-. ralni.” “Forth? sake of tho reward Na ralni offers thee?” she persisted dan- Cerously. “I don’t mind telling you that you'd turn ’most any man’s head, my dear,” he said, cheerfully, and let her inter pret the words as she pleased. She was not pleased, for her ac quaintance with English waa more in timate than she hsfd chosen to admit; but if she felt any chagrin she dis simulated with her never-failing arL “Then bid me farewell, O my soul, and go!” “Up there’” he Inquired, lifting hi* brows. “Aye, up the causeway and over tha bridge, into the city of death.’* “Alone?" “Aye, clone and afoot, my king." “P’rarrant prospect, thanks." Am ber whistled, a trifled dashed. “And. then, when I get up there—?'* “One will meet thee. Go with him* fearing naught.” “And what will you do. meanwhile?” “When thou sbnlt have passed tbo Gateway, m.v lord, Narainl will bs waiting for thee.” "Very well.” Amber threw a Kg. cveh the crupper, handed the stalllon’j reins to the sowar, who had dismount ed and drawn near and dropped to his feet. Narainl nodded to the sowar, who led the animal away. When h. was out of enrshot th? woman leaned from, tho saddle, her glorious eyes to \m bsr’s. ".My king!” .she breathud in tensely. F.ut the thought of Sophia Farrell and what she might be suffering at that very moment was uppermost— obtruded itself like a wall between himself and the woman. “Goodnight, my dear.’’ he said amia bly; and. turning, made off toward tha foot of the causeway. When he had gained it. he looked back to see her riding off at a wide angle from the causeway, heading out into the plain. When he looked agnin, some two or three minutes later. No ram!. the sowar, and the horses had vanished as completely as if the earth had opar.vd to receive them. Ha nibbed his eyes, stared and gave it up. So he was a’one! . ,• . With a shrug, he plodded on. CHAPTER XVIil. The Hooded Death. The ca”.3?way down which the he: semen of forg :f n kings of Khan dav.ar had clattered forth to war, '.n its age-old desuetude had come to de cay. Between its great paving blocks glass sprouted, and here and there creepers arid even trees had taken root and in the slow iauri:table rrot css of their growth had disolaced con siderable masses of stene; so that there were pitfalls to be avoided. Otherwise a litter of rubble made the walking anything but good. Amb r picked his way with caution, grumb ling. After sbme three-quarters of a a hour of ha:d climbing be came to the wooden bridge, and halted, surveyin’, it with mistrust. Doubtless iu the old en time a substantial but movable structure, strong enough to sustain a troop of warriors but light enough to be easily drawn up, had extended across the chasm, rendering th? city impregnable from capture by assault If so. It had long since been replaced by an airy and well-ventilated Lattice work of boards and timbers, non? of which seemed to the wary eye any too sound, \mber selected the most sol'd looking cf the lot and gingerly ad vanted a pace or two along it. With a soft crackling a portion of the tim ber crumbled to his feet He retreated hastily to the causeway, ard swore, and noticed that the Eva was watching him with malevolent In terest. and swore some more. En tirely on impulse he heaved a bit of rock, possibly twenty pounds in weight, to the middle of the structure. There followed a splintering crash and the contraption dissolved like s magic-lantern effect, leaving a solitary beam about a foot in width and six or eight Inches thick, spanning a flight of twenty and a drop cf sixty feet. The river received the rubbish with several successive splashes, dis tinctly disconcerting, and Amber sat down on a boulder to think it over. “Clever invention,” he mused; “oue'd think that, after taking all this trouble to get me here, they’d changed their minds about wanting me. I’ve a uctlon to change mine.’’ | There scorned to be no possibility of turning back at that stage, how ever. Kuttarpur was rather far away, and, moreover, he doubted if he would be permitted to return. Having come j thus far, he must go on. Moreover* Sophia Farrell was on the other side of that Suordwide bridge, and suck I being the case, cross it he would though he were to find the next world ;at itß end. Finally he considered that i he was presently to undergo an ordeal of some unknown nature, probably ex ! tremely unpleasant, and that this mat i ter of the vanishing bridge must have j been arranged in order to put him la a properly subdued and tractabla frame of miud. TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK. FOR SALE OR TRADE. A ranch of 480 acres, 35 miles south cast of Denver. Apply at the Buffalo saloon.