Chapter 12

DANGEROUS VISITORS.

Every hour in the day Frank scanned the horizon in hopes of seeing a sail. He felt that he could not be more than a hundred miles from the Bay Islands, and not altogether out of the track of sailing vessels.

Once he saw what appeared to be a long, low cloud hovering midway between the sky and water, and which he knew to be the smoke from a steamer; but it was so far off that, even with the glass, he could only make out the slow-moving line of smoke that marked her course.

His boat he kept in the channel forming the water entrance to the grotto, and during the roughest weather he had yet experienced on the island the tide never once rose higher than from four to six inches, and its ebb and flow was so silent that it was never heard, no matter how loud and tempestuously the surf was roaring without.

The rainfalls, though light, were more frequent, denoting the near approach of the dreaded wet season, when for days together he might be kept a prisoner in the cave, so he wisely took advantage of what remained to him of fair weather, and was out on the reef every morning as soon as it was light, looking, with longing eyes, for the hoped-for sail.

What wonder, then, after all this patient watching and waiting, that his heart leaped with indescribable joy when he saw a sail, not three miles away, and heading directly for the island!

At first he thought it was a turtle-sloop, by its size and rig, but, as it came nearer, it looked more like a pilot-boat, and somehow the sight of it strongly reminded him of his old enemy, Juan Montes, the wrecker.

They were beating up toward the point where the schooner lay, and their object evidently was to land and take a look at the stranded vessel.

A sudden fear seized Frank. It might be wreckers in search of spoils, and, in that case, from the recent experience he had had among them, it were better perhaps for him to retire to his cave until he knew something more of their intentions.

This he quickly did, taking care, however, not to break or bend a feathery fern or crush a tuft of moss, as he hastened within his retreat.

Then he hurriedly pushed to its place the block of stone that served for a door--or, rather, a window, for the aperture was only just large enough to admit of Frank's crawling through--and, when this was done, he took up his position at one of the two small loop-holes he had made, as a precautionary means when stormy weather might make it necessary to close the window.

Both lookouts commanded an unobstructed view of the sea and that part of the beach where the Sea Eagle lay.

Frank watched the slow approach of the sailboat, with bated breath and loudly-beating heart.

It _was_ Juan Montes! and with him Dick Turpie, the mulatto, Sagasta and Chris Lamberton.

A chill of mortal fear crept over Frank, from head to foot. He could not speak nor stir--scarcely to breathe--so great was his surprise and terror.

He saw them haul down the sail, drop the anchor, all four jump into the small boat towing astern, cast off the line and pull for the shore.

If discovered, he would surely be murdered, for as well might Frank hope to escape the blood-thirsty jaws of a wild beast, if in its power, as to expect mercy from these cruel, half-civilized, lawless men.

With a yell of exultant joy and malignant triumph, Sagasta cried, as he leaped on shore:

"It's the Sea Eagle, by all that's lucky! Come on, mates. She's ours now; and no mean prize, either!"

The three quickly followed Sagasta's lead, and were soon clambering up the side of the Sea Eagle, like so many overgrown, ill-favored monkeys.

But their joy speedily changed to anger and disappointment, when they discovered that the schooner had been already pillaged of everything of value about her. Even the cabin door and windows were gone, and every rope and spar and sail; the cook's galley, hold and forecastle plundered of every article worth carrying off, and an air of general desolation and ruthless ransacking pervaded her from stem to stern.

"Somebody's been here afore us!" said the wrecker, with a quick look shorewards. "I don't understand it. Where's her boat? What's become of her captain? If he, or any of his crew, are a-hiding anywhere on the island, I'll soon know it. Let's have a look around, lads, afore we begins work. This way!"

He drew his knife from its sheath as he spoke, the others following his example, Sagasta alone of the formidable quartette producing a revolver in addition to his knife; and thus armed, and ready to meet and exterminate any foe who might happen to be near, they separated, Sagasta going around to the southward, Turpie to the north, while Lamberton made for the centre of the island and Montes bestowed all his attention on the reef and its immediate neighborhood.

Frank was pale with suspense and fear. If they should find the seaward entrance to the cave, he was lost. Yet they might easily discover the causeway, and even sail through it, and still fail to find the cavern itself. He had found it only by the merest chance.

The thought gave him new courage, and he dared to again fix his eyes on the beach and the bit of sea where the wreckers' boat was gracefully rocking on the short land-swells.

All four returned in little more than an hour, and sat down under a wild plantain tree, not three feet from Frank's place of concealment.

"There's no one on the island, I'm certain of that," said Montes, whose squat, ugly form was so near the loop-hole that it actually darkened Frank's range of vision. "I can't just make it out, but I know this much--that's the Sea Eagle, and she's ours dead sure! We'll get her off to-morrow at flood-tide. There's a bit of a blow in that cloud a-comin' up in the east, but it won't amount to much, so we'll light a fire, get something to eat, and take it easy."

"It's pretty nigh a month since she stranded, by the depth of the sand around her," remarked Turpie, looking first at the schooner and then at the fire he was kindling a little way from the others. "I'd like to know what's become of the captain and the mate and Jack?"

"I reckon Dunham's in Davy Jones' locker, for that air slash Dardano gave him wasn't no scratch, I can tell you. They was short of hands, and didn't have no time to attend to him; but that don't satisfactorily account for the schooner bein' here, and dismantled as she is," rejoined Montes, with a puzzled air. "Captain Thorne wasn't the man to abandon his ship while a plank held together, and there's the Sea Eagle with as sound a hull as ever floated, and a--"

"And the better luck for us," roughly interrupted Sagasta. "I'd like to have got a whack at the boy; but, since he's food for sharks, I'll call it square. Wreckers have been here before us--there's no doubt of that--and they've cleaned her out pretty thoroughly, too; but we'll take the schooner, and she's a good enough prize to suit me," he laughed, with a cunning glance at Montes. "Yes, good enough, and as lawful a one as was ever picked up on the high seas," he continued, in a rather more positive tone of voice. "All we have to do is to get her off, bend on a sail or two, and head her for Bonacca or Barbette. Once there, we'll just paint out her old name and paint in a new one, and then, with that dark water-line transformed into a light blue, and I am Captain Sagasta, if you please, with fair pay for your services, of course, mates."

This last remark of Sagasta's did not seem to meet with much favor from Chris and the mulatto, but they were prudently silent, for the Spaniard was obviously the master-spirit of the unprepossessing gang. Even Montes, cruel and greedy as he was, yielded him the palm of superiority in matters of this sort.

Having finished their hastily-prepared meal, Turpie acting both as cook and steward, they cut down several of the largest of the palm trees that grew in the vicinity, and began shaping them into rollers ready for getting the schooner afloat.

Frank was a frightened but very attentive watcher of all they did. Not till he saw them repair to their boat for the night did he venture to snatch a mouthful to eat.

Every word of their conversation, while seated under the plantain tree, he had heard, and the recollection of it, and the near proximity of such dangerous neighbors, prevented him from closing his eyes the live-long night.

By the first peep of day the wreckers were astir, and so was Frank--that is, he had taken up his station at the loophole, determined to let nothing escape him in relation to their plans and purposes.

As soon as the tide was out, they began shoveling away the sand that had collected around the schooner's bow, the four of them working like beavers till there was space made sufficient to allow of placing the rollers under her, and, by this means, gradually extricating her from the imprisoning sands. They were still working when the tide was up to their knees and lapping high on the beach.

"Hurrah! There she goes!"

The shout startled Frank, and, with a sick heart and quivering lips, he saw the Sea Eagle slowly turn broadside toward the sea, and then fall off into deep water. The staunch old schooner was afloat once more, as sound as the day she was launched.

The pilot-boat was brought alongside and made fast, then they bent on all the sail they could muster, and, as the hastily-rigged canvas caught the wind, Sagasta waved his sailor-cap and exultantly exclaimed:

"Here's to Captain Thorne, a hundred fathoms below soundings; and here's to the Sea Eagle and her new commander!"

All repeated Sagasta's shout with a hearty good will, for they were now fairly under way--the Spaniard, Chris and the mulatto remaining on the schooner, and Montes alone managing the pilot-boat.

Frank never took his eyes off the vessels, which kept close company, till both were nearly out of sight. Then he removed the stone, crept through the opening, and ran to the spot where only the ashes of the wreckers' fire were to be seen.

He felt unutterably lonely. To look at the beach and not see the schooner there was like missing for the first time the face of a dear and only friend. He sat down on the sand and listened sadly to the moan of the surf fretting along the beach and the hollow boom of the breakers dashing against the reef.

The Sea Eagle now was but the merest speck on the ocean. It disappeared utterly, and the sun set in a bank of wrathy, black clouds.

Frank returned to the cave, too miserable to care for any supper, lay down on his bed, drew the blanket over his head and sobbed himself to sleep.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

HOW MY CAMERA CAUGHT A BANK ROBBER.

By Elton J. Buckley.

Lester Drake's detective camera first created the idea of photography in my mind. Before that, I hadn't the slightest inclination toward the art whatever, but when Lester purchased his neat little leather-covered box, and went around merely pressing a button, and getting dozens of pictures by no other means, I immediately decided that I, too, must have a camera.

Lester's was not an expensive one. His father had found it in one of the photographic establishments in Philadelphia, and being of a slightly scientific turn of mind himself, had purchased it and brought it home to Lester. The latter fitted up a corner of the cellar as a dark-room, and straightway launched himself as an amateur photographer.

Lester's first attempts, revealed by the chemical development, were surprisingly good, and inspired a strong feeling of envy in the breasts of those of his comrades whose fathers were blind to the oft-repeated advantages and delights of amateur picture-taking. Even more exasperating, he straightway became the idol of all the girls at school, whose zeal in posing for him was only equaled by the grotesqueness of some of their postures.

I brooded long and deep over this unpleasant condition of affairs, and finally arrived at the conclusion that I would have a camera like Lester at any cost.

Lester was kind enough to initiate me into the mysteries of his dark-room, and to allow me to examine the interior of his camera by ruby light. With the knowledge thus gained, I resolved to manufacture one myself. It wouldn't be as handsome as Lester's, perhaps, I thought, but it might do just as good work. So I made the attempt, using the lenses from an old microscope which I owned, but in vain. The instrument never reached the second stage of its construction.

The contrast between Lester's clean, smoothly-covered box, and what I knew mine would appear, even if I could finally complete it, was too great, and I abandoned it in despair.

Then I tried another tack. My father was exceedingly skeptical concerning the desirability of amateur photography, and flatly refused to furnish the necessary funds. It was October then, so I conceived a plan by which I would earn money during the fall by corn-husking among the near-by farmers, so that when spring opened I would have the price of the coveted camera.

No one could have worked harder during the weeks through which the season lasted than did I. Huskers were in demand that fall, and I secured work wherever I applied.

It is just possible that if Lester had grown tired of his camera in the meanwhile, and had ceased to use it, my desire for one might likewise have gone by the board, but the snap of his shutter was heard everywhere and at all times, and even at night--by flash-light--in the barns, where the frequent huskings were progressing.

When, after a few weeks, the farmers ceased to require buskers, I struck up a bargain with our grocer, whereby I was to spend Saturdays running errands for him. The money from this helped out wonderfully, and, according to my expectations, when April opened, a snug little sum reposed as the fruit of my labors in one corner of my top bureau drawer.

As soon as the weather moderated slightly, Lester, who now posed as a photographic oracle, and myself, went to the city one fine morning to buy the camera.

The neat little leather-covered box was duly inspected and purchased, together with the pamphlet of instructions that seemed so enticingly mysterious to my uninformed mind.

The camera was just like Lester's, with the exception of some minor improvements, which had been effected since the time when he had purchased his.

On the way home, Lester and I drew up a compact whereby I was to have the use of his dark-room and chemicals until I felt that I was fairly on my photographic legs. Then I was to fix up one of my own.

The camera had been sold loaded with plates, ready for use, and I lost no time in snapping several views here and there as the fancy seized me.

Lester taught me to develop them, and when the most of them came up under the chemicals clear and sharp, my delight was great.

And when I made prints from them, and the familiar home scenes and my playmates' faces were there plainly before me, it seemed to me that the universe could hold nothing more entrancing than amateur photography. Of course I had failures, but they were few compared with the successes.

One morning in May, after I had become thoroughly versed in the art of using the camera and had fitted up a dark-room of my own in the attic, Lester and I sallied out with our cameras, for no other purpose than to secure a half-dozen snap-shots whenever desirable ones might present themselves.

It was an ideal day for picture-taking. Rain had fallen the night before and had left the atmosphere clear and brilliant, with none of that dim haze which is the camerist's Nemesis so often.

We had strolled along the road, perhaps two miles out of the village, and had caught three or four very pretty views.

None had presented themselves, however, for some time, when, by a turn of the road, we came upon a man drinking from a spring at the side of the road. He was but a few feet away, and was stooping down with his back toward us.

"Let's get him," said I, in a low tone.

"All right," replied Lester; "you do it, though. I've only got one plate left."

I had several unexposed plates remaining in my camera, so I pointed the box toward the man and pressed the button. Just at the instant when the shutter must have operated, the man heard us and turned his head, facing us squarely.

He evidently understood what we were about, for he scowled deeply and walked rapidly away through the woods, without, however, offering to molest us. He carried a small black grip with him.

As the man's retreating figure disappeared through the trees, Lester and I drew a long breath of relief, for we felt like criminals detected in a crime, and we were a trifle afraid of the fellow beside.

We wandered on a little further, snapping a few more wayside pictures, and then turned toward home and retraced our steps.

That afternoon, Lester came over to my father's house to witness the development of the morning's pictures.

As, one by one, we put the plates through the developer, a majority came out well. One or two were a trifle under-exposed, and there were minor defects in others; but, on the whole, they were very good.

The star negative of the lot, however, was that of the stranger whom I had photographed drinking, and who had turned his head and caught me in the act. That was perfect. Everything was brilliantly sharp, and the shutter had caught the man's full face. In the negative, even so small an object as his eyes stood out beautifully.

We made a blue-print of this negative, and both Lester and myself recognized the faithfulness of the likeness, notwithstanding the fact that we had seen the man but a moment.

About the middle of the afternoon, my father returned from the neighboring town, ten miles away, in one of the banks of which he was clerk. He seemed to be much excited and perturbed about something. My mother noticed it also, and immediately inquired as to the cause of his uneasiness.

"The bank was robbed last night," he answered, "and over fifty thousand dollars stolen. Every cent I had in the world is gone with the rest."

My mother made an exclamation of dismay.

"And the worst of it is," went on my father, "that we are almost certain who the thief is, but we haven't a thing in the world to trace him by--not a vestige of a photograph or anything like it, which we could give to detectives to guide them in the hunt. The man's gone, and the money with him."

And my father sank despondently into a chair.

Meanwhile Lester and I stood by, listening silently, the still wet blue-print in my hand. After a minute I went and pressed the print out flat upon the table, on which my father's arm was leaning. At any other time I would have proudly exhibited it to him, and would have been sure of his interest and appreciation, but I did not feel like intruding upon his present worriment.

As I laid the picture face upward upon the table, my father turned his head and looked at it indifferently. Suddenly he pushed me aside, and bent over the print so closely that his face almost touched it.

I recovered my balance with difficulty, and stared at him in frightened bewilderment. My father had never acted in this manner before, and I was almost afraid he had gone mad.

"Great Scott!" he exclaimed. "The very thing!"

Then, wheeling around, he grasped me by the shoulders, and wanted to know where I got that picture.

I was far too dazed by his strange actions to answer a word; so Lester interposed and told my father, in as few words as possible, of our morning expedition, and of the man whom we had photographed in the act of drinking.

"Bless the camera!" ejaculated my father, excitedly, "that's Eli Parker, the thief! And the best likeness of him I ever saw, too!"

Then he questioned us closely as to the direction the man had taken when discovered, and ended by confiscating the print and the negative, and rushing out of the house to take the next train back to town. Lester and I talked about it all the afternoon, and felt ourselves quite heroes for having the temerity to stand before a real bank robber.

Fifty prints were immediately struck off from the negative, and these were given to detectives, who scoured the country in every direction. After a two days' search, those nearest home were successful, and found Parker in the same woods where Lester and I had first surprised him. He had sought to evade capture by avoiding railroads, and hiding himself until the first excitement of the robbery had passed. As the whole amount of stolen funds was discovered in the little black grip which he carried, he was convicted of the crime without difficulty, and sentenced for a term of fifteen years in State prison.

The sequel of the incident was the most agreeable and the most astonishing of all. One day, a month subsequent, when Parker had been safely housed in the penitentiary, my father came home, and, with a mysterious smile upon his face, handed me an envelope. Upon being opened, the discovery was made that "Howard Benton and Lester Drake were authorized to draw upon the First National Bank of C----, for $100 apiece, in slight recognition of their part in apprehending Eli Parker, the perpetrator of the recent robbery upon that institution."

I am still an ardent disciple of amateur photography. Who wouldn't be under such circumstances?

--The umbrella is undoubtedly of high antiquity, appearing in various forms upon the sculptured monuments of Egypt, Assyria, Greece and Rome; and in hot countries it has been used since the dawn of history as a sunshade--a use signified by its name, derived from the Latin _umbra_, a shade.

GOOD RULES.

By Rev. P. B. Strong.

If a mean thing you would do, Always put it off a day; If a noble act and true, Do not e'en a moment stay.

Ne'er by proxy do a deed. Would you have it surely done; It you'd never come to need, Wait not wealth from any one.

Deem no coin too small to save, Quit not certainty for hope; Good denied, you cease to crave, Neither o'er the future mope.

What you can't by bushels take, Get by spoonfuls, if you can; Never mounts from mole hills make; Ere you leap, the distance scan.

Shiver not for last year's snow, Nor bemoan the milk that's spilt; When you hasten, slowly go; Keep your conscience clear of guilt.

These old rules, which here in verse You behold thus newly set, Well it would be to rehearse, Till not one you could forget.

A PERILOUS RIDE.

By W. Bert Foster.

"So you boys think you came down here pretty fast, eh?" asked Randy Bronson, crossing one wooden leg over the other and stretching them both out toward the great fire of hickory logs that were roaring in the chimney.

Seven of us academy boys had piled into the only double cutter the village livery stable possessed, and had covered the nine miles between the school and Randy's place down on the river road in forty-five minutes, and for a pair of farm horses we thought that pretty good time. Randy's suppers, or rather his wife Maria's suppers, were famous, and the doctor was always willing to let a party of us off for an evening at their little establishment providing we were back in good season. Randy and his wife were to be trusted to look out for the most harum-scarum boy who ever attended the Edgewood Academy.

While supper was being prepared we gathered about Randy and the wide open fireplace to wait for the repast, with all the patience at our command.

If Maria Bronson's suppers had gained a reputation among us, so had Randy's stories. He had been a sailor in his youth, and, indeed, in middle life, until during a naval engagement on the lower Mississippi, in the civil war, he had both legs shot away, and was doomed to "peg about," as he jocularly called it, on wooden substitutes.

"So you thought you came down here pretty fast?" asked Randy, repeating the remark which opened this narrative. "And well you might, with the roads in the condition they are now. But I've been sleighing faster than any of you boys have traveled, unless it was on a railroad train, and over the roughest sort of a track, too."

We all foresaw a story at once and were eager enough to hear the tale. So with little urging Randy began:

"When I was a boy you know I went to sea," he said, and we all nodded acquiescence, for about every story Randy told commenced with just that remark. "My parents died when I was young and I was bound out to an old uncle; but farming wasn't to my taste, and I was always longing so for salt water that finally he told me I wasn't worth my board and clothes, and to clear out and go to sea if I wanted to.

"I didn't need any second bidding. I went off that very night, and I never saw my Uncle Eb again.

"After going two or three trips to 'the banks,' I shipped aboard the New Bedford whaler Henry Clay, knowing well enough that whaling couldn't be a great sight worse than fishing off Newfoundland in the dead of winter.

"As luck would have it, though, the Henry Clay joined the North Atlantic fleet and started for the Greenland fishing grounds. We lost the rest of the fleet in a big blow off Cape Farewell and worked northward alone, having the good fortune to fall in with several school of right whales, out of which we captured three or four 'balleeners,'[*] the oil and bone together being worth something like eighteen thousand dollars.

[Footnote *: All the large whales of the region referred to are called "balleeners" as their mouths are furnished with the balleen or whalebone of commerce.]

"The captain had begun to crow over the fine season we were having, when, early in October, we were caught in a nip in Cumberland Inlet, and the ice piled in so solidly around us that we knew we were good for all winter. There wasn't any particular danger, for the Henry Clay was a well-built craft, strengthened to withstand just such a squeeze as the ice-pack was giving us.

"Captain Simon Lewis, as kind-hearted a man as ever I sailed under, made all needed preparations for winter at once, and we boys before the mast looked forward to a pretty jolly season.

"We were warmly clad, the fo'castle grub was better than is common with whalers, and there was every prospect for plenty of fresh meat and good hunting, as soon as the ice about us should become firm.

"After everything had been made ship-shape, we were given all the freedom we needed, and the library brought aboard by the officers was open to common use. Several days after this order of things had been established, the mate took half a dozen of us younger fellows out for a long tramp over the ice. There were three guns in the party, and we went along like a parcel of schoolboys out on a frolic.

"We made only about eight miles before noon, for the ice was so uneven that the traveling was rougher than any I had ever experienced, when suddenly, upon rounding an enormous ice hummock, we came in sight of a group of Esquimaux, sledges and dogs, and were discovered before we could retreat behind the hummock again.

"The crowd raised a cry of '_Kabulenet! Oomeak! Kabulenet! Oomeak!_' which means, 'White men and ships!' and a general rush was made in our direction.

"The mate told us there was nothing to fear, as they were quite friendly, and he walked forward to meet them. He had been among them before and knew some of their words, so we were quickly on excellent terms with them.

"They surrounded us, laughing and chattering like so many children, shaking hands, examining our clothes and repeating, like parrots, the words and expressions the white men whom they had met before had taught them.

"One old chap, Kalutunah by name, seemed especially kindly disposed towards us, and, following his example, the entire party, finding the white men's ship was so near, decided to make their winter quarters near us, knowing that they would probably get what would be, to them, valuable presents.

"Captain Lewis was glad to have them for neighbors, too, for, if we should happen to run short of fresh meat or should get smashed in the ice--and there is always a possibility of that--the Esquimaux would be of great assistance.

"They built their _igloos_ not far from the ship, and we interchanged frequent visits. Kalutunah and I became very intimate, and I tried to teach him English words and their meaning in his language; but he never got any farther than _ees_ and _noe_--his pronunciation of 'yes' and 'no.'

"Two months of such an easy life as we led tired me more than cutting up the biggest 'balleener' that was ever 'ironed.' Parties of the Esquimaux went off hunting every day, and, finding that Kalutunah was making preparations for a two days' hunt up the inlet, I begged the captain to allow me to go with him, and permission was readily given.

"The trip was to be made on Kalutunah's sledge, and if you have never read about or seen a picture of an Esquimau sledge, you want to look it up at once. It is one of the most ingeniously-built things I ever saw, considering the means at the command of the Esquimaux.

"The runners, which are of bone, are square behind and curved upward in front, usually five feet or more in length, three-fourths of an inch thick, and seven in height. They are not of solid bone, but composed of many pieces of various shapes and sizes, yet all fitting together so perfectly that they are as smooth as glass.

"The shoe is of ivory from the walrus, and is fastened to the runner with seal strings looped through counter-sunk holes, and in the same manner the various bones making up the runner are fastened in place.

"When you take into consideration the fact that all this fitting and smoothing is done with stone implements, you will believe me when I say the Esquimau sledge is a wonderful thing.

"The runners are placed fourteen inches apart and are fastened together by cross-pieces tightly lashed by sealskin strings. Two walrus ribs are lashed to the after end of each runner in an upright position, and these are braced by other bones, forming the back, and, with plenty of skins and robes for cushions, the Esquimau sledge isn't the most uncomfortable thing in the world to ride upon.

"Kalutunah was going after walrus, and I borrowed a rifle of the mate, thinking that I might do a little shooting on my own account on the way.

"Seven of the hungriest-looking and ugliest dogs among the large number belonging to the natives drew the sledge. The Esquimau usually hitches seven dogs to his sledge, and never drives them tandem, each dog being attached to the sledge by a single trace fastened to a breast-strap.

"It doesn't matter how rapidly they are running or what the obstructions are, they will keep their traces clear of one another. The dogs on either side have the most work to do, and, after holding that position for some time, a dog will jump over several of his fellows into the centre of the pack and let some other have his place on the outside.

"Kalutunah got on the sledge, and I sat between his knees, and, amid a great deal of shouting and chaffing from the rest of the crew, the dogs started off at Kalutunah's cry of 'Ka! Ka!' and a touch of the whip.

"By-the-way, boys, that whip was a wonder. The lash was six yards long and the handle but sixteen inches. Learning to throw the lasso isn't a circumstance to learning the ins and out of that whip.

"Of course, boy like, I wanted to try it before we had gone a mile. While traveling, the lash trails along in the rear, and by a quick motion of the hand and wrist is thrown forward like a great snake, snapping like a gun-shot over the heads of the team.

"The first time I tried it the end of the lash caught me on the arm, and, although the member was thickly covered, I felt the blow unpleasantly.

"Kalutunah laughed immoderately at my failure, but dodged the next instant as I tried it again, the lash this time coming within an ace of taking him across the face.

"The third time I essayed the feat, the end of the whip caught on a jutting piece of ice, and I was 'snatched' off the sledge in grand style, nearly wrecking it in my exit.

"That was going a little too far, so Kalutunah thought, and he wouldn't let me try it again, so I contented myself with nursing the various bruises I had received in my tumble.

"But how those dogs could travel! The frozen inlet was strewn with hummocks and broken ice cakes, and I had to cling to the sledge with both hands sometimes to keep from being thrown off.

"I was profoundly grateful when we reached our stopping place about the middle of the afternoon. A week before Kalutunah had seen a walrus near this place, under some new ice that had formed over a breathing hole.

"The dogs were left fastened to the sledge, so that their presence would not disturb the walrus should one be near. The Esquimau got out his harpoon and line and approached the thin ice, telling me to keep back.

"I wasn't very eager to stay near the walrus should the old fellow be lucky enough to iron one, for there had been one caught near the Henry Clay, and a more ferocious-looking beast I never saw.

"I stayed back near the sledge with my rifle, on the lookout for something to try a shot at, and in the meantime keeping my eye on old Kalutunah. He went forward carefully, dodging from hummock to hummock, but gradually getting nearer the thin ice. All at once I caught sight of another object on the ice a little to the right of the Esquimau. At first I thought it was a seal, for it lay flat on the ice, and was about to hurry after Kalutunah to tell him about it, when the figure rose up and I saw that it was a man--another Esquimau.

"The stranger walked rapidly toward Kalutunah, and had almost reached his side before the old fellow noticed him. Then he sprang up, and although they were too far away for me to hear them, even if my ears had not been covered with my hood, I saw that they were talking together.

"The stranger continued to advance, holding out his hand as though to shake Kalutunah's.

"Having arrived quite near, he took a quick stride forward, and instead of offering his hand, as Kalutunah had evidently expected, suddenly raised a short club and struck Kalutunah on the head.

"It was a most brutal act, and so unexpected was it that for an instant I was stupefied.

"Kalutunah threw up his arm, and fell backward without a cry. The treacherous wretch leaned over him to repeat the blow, but I had found my senses by that time, and, raising my rifle, fired at him. The bullet probably flew wide of its mark, but it scared the rascal. Evidently he had not noticed me before, and least of all expected to find a white boy with the old man he had so cruelly attacked.

"With a wild yell, he ran at the top of his speed, expecting no doubt another shot every instant.

"I hurried forward to where Kalutunah was lying senseless on the ice. He was not dead, and, as I reached him, he raised up, with an evident effort, and cried:

"'See-ne-mee-utes! See-ne-mee-utes!'

"I remembered then what the mate of the Henry Clay had once told me about a tribe of bloodthirsty men in the interior, called by the well-disposed Esquimaux See-ne-mee-utes. These wretches approach a stranger to all appearances in a friendly manner, and, taking him unawares, assault him in the treacherous way that Kalutunah had been attacked.

"The old man was brave if he was an Esquimau, for I could understand by his motions that he wanted me to fly and leave him. But I wouldn't hear of that.

"From the direction in which the See-ne-mee-ute had fled I saw a dozen figures approaching. Evidently there were plenty of reinforcements at hand, and, even with my rifle, I could not keep them at bay.

"Kalutunah was not a large man--Esquimaux seldom are--and the dog sledge was not far in our rear. I had strong arms and two good legs under me in those days, so, lifting the poor fellow, I carried him to the sledge.

"The dogs were up and excited, I could see by their actions; but I had no time to fool with them. I placed Kalutunah, who had again become unconscious, on the sledge and got on before him. By this time my pursuers were close at hand, and I was horrified to see two dog sledges following in the rear. Unfamiliar as I was with the management of Kalutunah's team, the See-ne-mee-utes would overtake us in spite of all I could do.

"I raised my rifle and gave them a parting shot, and the dogs, frightened by the report so near them, started off like mad over the ice toward the distant ship.

"Again my bullet must have been badly aimed, for it only brought forth a howl of rage from my pursuers, as they saw me escaping. Hastily boarding their sledges, four of them started after me.

"I had a little start, but my dogs, having had only an hour's rest, would likely be no match in speed for those attached to the See-ne-mee-ute sledges; but they started nobly, spreading out like a fan before the sledge and tugging at the breast-straps.

"Had Kalutunah been able to drive them, there might be more chance for us, I thought; but Kalutunah remained unconscious, and I had all I could do to hold both him and myself upon the swaying sledge.

"Without Kalutunah's voice and whip to guide them, the dogs turned aside for very few obstructions, but tore over them all, nearly wrecking the sledge at every leap. The pursuing sledges, guided by skillful drivers, were therefore able to gradually creep up on us.

"I knew very few Esquimaux words, but I yelled to the dogs at the top of my voice and managed to get 'em infused with some of my own fear, for they sped over the ice-field as I had never seen them travel before.

"On, on we went! The wind cut my face--from which the hood had fallen back--like a knife. I grew dizzy with the rush of air and the swaying of the sledge. It was impossible to get a shot at my pursuers, while the dogs were traveling at this rate; but I determined to make a desperate stand against the four men, should they overtake us.

"For some reason or other, their dogs were not so superior in endurance to Kalutunah's as I had feared. After first gaining on us a little, they barely kept their pace for the first six miles. Then the speed began to tell on my dogs and skillful driving on my pursuers'. My animals were getting fagged out, and slowly but steadily I was being overhauled.

"Old Kalutunah had all the appearance of a dead man. For one dreadful moment I was tempted to throw him off the sledge. Their burden thus lightened, the dogs might be able to carry me safely back to the ship, still far down the inlet.

"But this cowardly thought possessed me only an instant. I recalled the old Esquimau's unselfishness in wanting me to escape and leave him when he was wounded, and determined that, if I ever reached the Henry Clay again, he should.

"The See-ne-mee-utes were close behind me now, urging their dogs on with exultant cries. The foremost sledge was within fifty feet, and the other directly behind it.

"Risking a disastrous tumble upon the ice, I rose upon my knees and turned toward them, holding by one hand to the back of the sledge. Kalutunah lay on the bottom, and I held his body from rolling off by the pressure of my knees.

"The wretches saw my head appear above the back of the sledge, and they uttered a loud shout of rage, shaking their spears and urging on their dogs to still greater exertions. An extra heavy lurch of the sledge almost threw me overboard, but I braced myself and raised my rifle to my shoulder.

"As soon as they saw my weapon the two men in the foremost sledge burrowed like rats among the robes. Those in the rear were hidden from me.

"I had but an instant to reflect. We were rapidly approaching a terribly rough piece of ice, and I should be thrown out did I not sink down into the sledge again.

"The dogs were between me and the crouching occupants of the pursuing sledge, and kept me from getting a correct aim at the men.

"Quick as a flash I fired right into the pack, and then dropped into the bottom of my own sledge. The next instant we struck the rough stretch of ice, and I had all I could do to cling on until we had passed it. Then I looked back.

"Judge of my surprise when I saw that, by a fortunate accident, my pursuers had been stopped.

"My bullet had taken effect on one of the dogs, which had immediately tangled up the rest of the team and brought the sledge to a standstill.

"The sledge behind seemed to be completely mixed up in the disaster, and the two sets of dogs were fighting furiously, while the Esquimaux were running about trying to separate them.

"I was safe! Another two miles and the Henry Clay would be in sight, and, unless some accident happened to my own team, my pursuers would not be able to gain the vantage they had lost.

"When I reached the ship, the moon was high and all hands had turned in long before, but they roused out, as did the Esquimaux from their huts, at my halloo.

"Poor old Kalutunah was carried into the cabin, and the captain and mate worked over him a long time before they brought him to. He had been almost frozen in addition to his wound, so that he had a hard fight for life. But when he was finally on his pins again, how thankful he was to me! And the whole tribe was the same way.

"One bad result of my adventure, however, was that Captain Lewis would allow no more extended trips away from the vessel, and although we never saw anymore See-ne-mee-utes, every party that went out for even a short tramp was fully armed and under the command of an officer.

"Now you can't tell me anything about rapid sledding," concluded Randy. "I've had my day at it, and I must say that it was about as uncomfortable an experience as I ever had."

[_This Story began in No. 43._]

The PURPLE PENNANT or ALAN HEATHCOTE'S FORTUNE.

A Foot-Ball Story.

BY A PRINCETON GRADUATE.