Part 1

Produced by Annie R. McGuire

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VOL. III.--NO. 151. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR CENTS.

Tuesday, September 19, 1882. Copyright, 1882, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per Year, in Advance.

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THE STORY OF A GREAT MAMMOTH.

BY ELIZABETH ABERCROMBIE.

Long and long ago, before you or I were born, in the year 1799 in fact, a man by the name of Ossip Schumachoff threw away a golden opportunity. Having undertaken an expedition up to the Arctic Ocean in search of ivory, he started from home with his wife on a reindeer sledge, and was so far successful in his undertaking that he discovered on the banks of the river Lena a certain block of ice that would have set all the naturalists in the world in commotion if he had but known it. This block of ice was of untold value, for it contained the body of an enormous tusked animal in a perfect state of preservation.

Owing to the impenetrable masses of ice surrounding the mammoth, Ossip did not at that time succeed in reaching it; but returning to the same spot some two years later, he found that the ice had so far melted that a portion of the huge creature was exposed to the air.

And yet Chief Ossip was no nearer to his prize than he had been at first. It is true the Ice King smilingly placed it in his grasp, but a mightier power, Superstition, stepping in with her rod of iron, bade him touch it if he dared.

All the old men of his tribe shook their heads discouragingly. All the old women told direful tales of what had happened long years before, how a certain Tungusian chief, having seen just such a monster as this, had immediately fallen ill and died, with all his family.

And as good luck--or bad--would have it, Ossip Schumachoff too began to feel ill, so he slowly went back to his home again to dream by day and night for three years more of that magnificent pair of tusks going to waste up there in the North.

At last he could stand it no longer. Making another expedition to the Lena, he found the monster now entirely melted out of the ice, and slipped down upon a sand-bank; but this time he sawed off the magnificent pair of tusks, and sold them for fifty good Russian rubles.

It was not until two years later, in 1806, that the naturalist and traveller Adams heard of the affair in Jakutsk. In June of the same year he travelled thither to rescue what was still to be saved. Schumachoff accompanied him, together with ten Tunguses.

They found the animal on the right bank of the Lena, near the Arctic Ocean, on a small peninsula called Tamud, but it was by this time in a bad condition. Polar bears, wolves, and foxes had eaten the flesh, and the people of that desolate region had fed their dogs upon it, although of the skeleton itself only one fore-foot was missing.

You may think how the eyes of the naturalist sparkled when they fell upon this colossal ruin. A mammoth, you know, is what is called the elephant of the ages before the Flood. It has long, long ago disappeared from the living world, so long, indeed, that it would be hard telling, perhaps, just how many thousands of years the mammoth of which I have been writing had lain hidden away in his icy bed.

Judging by this most perfect specimen ever discovered by man, the mammoth had the greatest likeness to the elephants of the present day, especially to those of India.

The naturalist was able to discover that his specimen was a male. Its head weighed four hundred pounds. It had a long black mane, the hair measuring at least a foot and a half, and its whole body was covered with a thick coating of reddish wool five inches in length. The tail and the trunk were gone, but the eyes were still preserved; so also was the brain. Professor Adams had no difficulty in stripping off three-quarters of the skin, though this was found to be so heavy that when he attempted to take it away it required fully ten men to carry it.

The hairs which the polar bears and other beasts of prey had trodden into the damp ground were collected, and amounted to some thirty pounds. Specimens of these were afterward shown in almost all the museums of Europe.

The lucky naturalist, having no fear of death like poor old Ossip, had everything carefully packed together and carried up the Lena, then across the country for more than four thousand miles, to the distant city of St. Petersburg, where the skin and skeleton form to-day the most valuable specimen of its famous museum. He also brought home some of the flesh, which, in spite of its age, was still fresh enough to be eaten, and the St. Petersburg Academicians and other gentlemen tasted this remarkable roast. The Academy gave the naturalist eight thousand rubles for his travelling expenses, besides a professorship in Moscow.

And this is the story of the great mammoth discovery that caused so much excitement in all the scientific circles of Europe. But how this ancient elephant strayed in the first place into so uncongenial a climate as that within the arctic circle, or what he could have found to eat when there, remains, I think, a mystery to the present day.

There are many theories advanced, but who can tell which one of them all is right?

We read that the tribes who live in the northern parts of Siberia, upon the thawing of the ice in summer, are constantly finding some immense skull, with its strongly bowed tusks in a perfect state of preservation, or some other skeleton remains (of the same animal apparently), with the red flesh still clinging to them.

And indeed these discoveries seem to have been long a source of revenue to the poor wandering people of the north. As early as 1707 a certain gentleman named Isbeaud Ides, who made a journey to China as ambassador to that distant country, declared that the Tunguse carried on a considerable business with the tusks discovered from time to time in the melting ice.

He further says that the animal known to us as the mammoth was called mammont by the wild tribes of Siberia, and that they believed it to be living still somewhere deep down in the ground, burrowing in the mud in the neighborhood of the river. According to their theory, if in the course of its dark wandering the animal by any possibility struck upon the sand, it immediately sank therein and died. So, too, it was inevitably lost when it came into the air of the upper world upon a bank of the river, because it could bear neither air nor light.

But this was only a theory of ignorant people--one to make the wise men of the earth smile in scorn--and still the question remains unanswered, I think, how it is that the bones and remains of a tropical animal are found in such numbers throughout the region of ice and snow.

THE BULLET-PROOF MAN.

A STORY OF NORTHERN AFRICA.

BY DAVID KER.

A bright, burning summer day on the border of the Sahara Desert; the huge bare cliffs of the El Kantarah Pass hanging like a cloud on the northern horizon; a quivering film of intense heat along the line where the rich blue of the cloudless sky met the hot, lifeless, brassy yellow of the desert; and in the foreground a group of Arabs, encamped beside a tiny stream, in the shade of the clustering palms that overhung it.

Some were munching handfuls of parched corn, others were lying fast asleep, while one dried-up old scarecrow with one eye, and a head like a worn-out scrubbing-brush, was droning out some interminable Eastern legend.

The story did not appear to get on very fast, however, which was not surprising, inasmuch as the whole of it, from beginning to end (if it ever had any), was pretty much in this style:

"Now when the Prince Selim (may his name be honored forever!) came up to the gate of the palace--a gate higher than the dome of the Kaabah [holy place] at Mecca, and built all of marble whiter than the whitest milk--lo! there stood before it a giant, mighty and exceeding terrible. Then was the Prince of Gulistan sore amazed, and said, 'Never since I, Selim, son of Mahmoud, son of Sayid, son of Ali, first wore a yataghan [sabre] have I beheld such a monster as this!'"

And so on for another half-hour, keeping poor Prince Selim waiting at the gate of the palace.

But on a sudden an exclamation of astonishment broke from one of the group, and all eyes were turned to stare at a spectacle quite as wonderful to them as any of the marvels to which they had just been listening.

Sauntering leisurely over the burning plain, as composedly as if he were lounging along the boulevards of Paris or St. Petersburg, instead of traversing one of the most dangerous spots in the whole north of Africa, was a solitary man, coming slowly toward them. True, he wore the white mantle and huge many-folded turban of the East, but he was none the less a European, as his fair complexion, well-trimmed beard, and jauntily cut pants sufficiently showed.

Instantly the universal listlessness changed to bustle and excitement. The sleepers woke up, the lunch party forsook their dates and corn, the story-teller and his hearers started to their feet together, and all alike hurried forward to meet their strange visitor.

But to their unbounded amazement the strange visitor took no notice of them whatever beyond a slight bow and the usual "Peace be with you!" spoken in good Arabic, though with an unmistakably French accent. Stepping into the shade of the palms, he bent down to the stream, took a long draught of the cool clear water, and then seating himself upon the bank, took off his turban, and began to fan his hot face with a fallen palm leaf, as if wishing to show his coolness in a double sense.

The Arabs were completely taken aback. They had seen men look pale, and try to run away from them; and they had seen men look fierce, and rush at them pistol in hand; but a man who paid no attention to them at all, and who hardly seemed to know whether they were there or not, was a thing which they had never seen before, and they did not know what to make of it. In fact, like most men of their class, the moment they encountered a man whom they could not frighten, they at once began to be frightened themselves.

At length the chief, seeming to think himself bound to set an example of courage to his followers, walked right up to the stranger, while the rest approached more cautiously, very much as a man approaches a strange dog which may spring up and bite him at any moment.

"Peace be with thee, my brother!" said the chief, in a voice not quite so steady as it might have been.

"With thee be peace, oh, sheik [chief] of the children of the desert!" replied the unknown.

"What seeks the Frank [European] chief among the warriors of the tribe of Ben-Asyr?"

"I am a magician," answered the stranger, quietly.

The Arabs looked at each other with undisguised trepidation. A magician among them, and a Frank magician at that! Who could tell what he might do to them? For every Arab had heard the fame of the mighty sorcerers who could make wagons run without horses, ships go without sails, messages fly along a wire through the air swifter than an arrow, little scraps of paper serve as money, and other scraps of paper, no bigger than a true believer's turban, show the whereabouts of all the wells, rivers, hills, and caravan tracks, over an area of thousands of miles. Evidently this unknown gentleman was not a man to be trifled with.

"I am a magician," repeated the mysterious guest, before any one could speak in reply, "and I have come to see if in the tribe of Ben-Asyr there be another magician like myself, and to try my power against his."

This challenge was followed by a gloomy and universal silence. But suddenly a cunning twinkle showed itself in the chief's small rat-like eye. Perhaps this strange man was only boasting in order to frighten them. At any rate, it might be worth while to see what he was made of, and how much he could really do. So the chief made a very polite bow, and said:

"We are far from the tents of our tribe, and none of our great magicians are with us; but let the wise man of the Franks show us his power, that we may behold it, and honor him as he deserves."

"That will I do willingly," answered the stranger, with a readiness which rather disconcerted the worthy chief. "Look all of you upon this coin"--and he held out a silver franc--"which I have marked with a circle, as ye see. Thinkest thou, O sheik of the Ben-Asyr, that thou canst hold it too firmly for me to take it away?"

"With the blessing of Heaven and of the Prophet, I can," replied the chief, confidently.

"Let us try, then," said the stranger, pressing the coin into the Arab's extended hand, which instantly closed upon it as if meaning never to let it go again.

"Presto! pass!" shouted the magician, in a high, shrill voice; and the chief, opening his hand, found to his unfeigned dismay that it was empty.

Amid the general silence and bewilderment, the stranger pointed to a huge overripe date that lay rotting on the ground at some distance, which one of the Arabs instantly handed to him. One stroke of a knife laid it open, and out tumbled the marked coin.

There was a visible movement of surprise among the Arabs, and even the chief himself looked not a little discomfited.

"For a warrior of the desert, thou art easily conquered," said the Frenchman, jeeringly; "but it is no wonder that ill fortune should come upon the tribe of Ben-Asyr, when their chief himself, a follower of the Prophet, carries with him the liquor which the Prophet forbade."

"What mean you?" cried the chief, fiercely.

"_This_," answered the other, as, thrusting his hand into the sheik's wallet, he held forth to the horrified eyes of the band a small flask of unmistakable French wine.

"Dog of a Frank!" roared the sheik, losing all patience, "do you dare to try your magical tricks upon a true believer? Take that!"

He snatched a pistol from his girdle, and aimed it full at the conjurer's face; but it only flashed in the pan, and as he dashed it furiously to the ground, his unmoved opponent laughed disdainfully.

"Do you think, then, that _I_ am to be hurt by mortal weapons? Try it again, if you will; or rather let _me_ load a pistol for you, and you shall see whether I am bullet-proof or no."

He drew a second pistol from the girdle of the sheik, who was too much astounded to object, and loaded it before the eyes of the whole band, marking the ball with his knife just before dropping it into the barrel.

"Fire!" cried he, putting the weapon into the sheik's hand.

The chief fired, and for a moment the smoke hid everything. When it cleared, the stranger, with a mocking smile on his face, was seen to _let fall the marked bullet from his mouth_ into his hand, and hold it up for every one to look at.

The dark faces of the Arabs turned perfectly _green_ with terror; but before anybody had time to say a word a loud shout was heard from behind, and up dashed three mounted French officers with a score of light horsemen.

Instantly the Arabs took to their heels with a howl of dismay, never waiting to see whether the new-comers were real men, or phantoms called up by the terrible magician. The spot was deserted in a moment, and far out on the plain might be seen a confused whirl of arms, limbs, and white mantles flying along like dust driven by the wind.

"Really, M. Houdin, you must be more careful," cried the French Colonel, excitedly. "To think of your venturing alone among all those cut-throats! What a fright you've given us!"

"And somebody else too, seemingly," said Robert Houdin--for it was indeed the famous sleight-of-hand artist--glancing slyly at the flying Arabs. "When I first came upon them I knew it was no use running, so I decided to face it out, and scare _them_ a little instead. The next time you make a raid through these parts, Colonel, take a few conjurers with you; they'll be worth a whole battalion of infantry, take my word for it."

EDITH BAXTER.[1]

[1] The circumstances attending the rescue from drowning of the baby Harry Lee by Miss Edith Baxter, aged twelve, in front of the Avon Beach Hotel, at Bath, Long Island, have already been related in the Post-office Box of YOUNG PEOPLE, No. 149.

BY MRS. MARGARET E. SANGSTER.

A beautiful day in summer, At Bath, beside the sea, Where a bevy of careless children Were as gay as gay could be.

Some with their spades so tiny Were turning over the sand, Some were merrily racing With the surf that dashed on the strand.

And others, bold and daring, Plunged into the deep green wave, At the touch of the grim old ocean They felt so blithe and brave.

Laughing, leaping, and diving, The sturdy, frolicsome crew Had never a thought of danger Under the sky's soft blue.

And nobody noticed Harry, A dear little five-year-old, With just a glimmer of sunshine Tinting his curls of gold.

Till, after the rest, as swiftly As a flash the darling went; And a cry of sudden terror The giddy gladness rent.

The billows have caught the baby, They are bearing him far away; Alas for Harry's mother And her empty arms this day!

Some one has darted to save him, Forth from an awe-struck throng, A fearless heart to the rescue, Steady and true and strong.

Buffeting surge and breaker, Straight through the curdling foam, On through the angry waters, She is toiling to bring him home.

Only a child, with girlhood's Clear light in her candid eyes; Only a girl, but a woman In her glory of sacrifice.

On the shore they watch and listen, Spell-bound in a dumb despair. Ah! hark to the shout of triumph, That ends in a thankful prayer.

Edith has saved wee Harry. 'Twas a noble deed was done, At Bath, that day, by the ocean, In the light of the summer sun.

THE CRUISE OF THE CANOE CLUB.[2]

[2] Begun in No. 146, HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.

BY W. L. ALDEN,

AUTHOR OF "THE MORAL PIRATES," "THE CRUISE OF THE 'GHOST,'" ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER VI.

The early morning visitor was not a bear. He was a very welcome visitor, for as soon as he made himself visible he was seen to be the missing canoeist. Charley was very wet and cold, but he was soon furnished with dry clothes and a blanket, and warmed with a cup of hot coffee made with the help of Harry's spirit-lamp; and as he lay on the bank and waited for daylight, he told the story of his midnight run down the rapid.

When the boys were crossing the river above the rapid Charley's canoe was close behind Joe's. The latter ran on a rock, and in order to avoid her Charley was compelled to pass below the rock. In so doing he found himself in great danger of running on another rock, and in his effort to avoid this he drifted still farther down the river. Before he was aware of his danger he was caught by the current at the head of the rapid. He had just time to turn his canoe so as to head her down stream, and to buckle his life-belt around him. In another second he was rushing down the rapid at a rate that, in view of the darkness, was really frightful.

It was useless to attempt to guide the canoe. Charley could see so little in advance of him that he could not choose his channel nor avoid any rock that might lie in his path. He therefore sat still, trusting that the current would carry him into the deepest channel, and keep him clear of the rocks. The rapid seemed to be a very long one, but the _Midnight_ ran it without taking in a drop of water or striking a single rock.

As soon as quiet water was reached, Charley paddled to the shore, intending to make his canoe fast and to sleep quietly in her until morning. He was in high spirits at having successfully run a rapid in the dark, and he paddled so carelessly that just as he was within a yard of the shore the canoe ran upon a sunken log, spilled her captain into the water, and then, floated off in the darkness, and disappeared.

Charley had no difficulty in getting ashore, but he was wet to the skin, and his dry clothes and all his property, except his paddle, had gone on a cruise without him. There was nothing for him to do but to make his way back along the bank to the other boys. This proved to be a tiresome task. The woods were very thick, and full of underbrush and fallen trunks. Charley was terribly scratched, and his clothes badly torn, as he slowly forced his way through the bushes and among the trees. He was beginning to think that he would never reach the boys, when he fortunately heard their voices as they whispered together.

When morning dawned, the canoeists, feeling extremely cramped and stiff, cast their canoes loose, and started down the river, intending, if possible, to find Charley's canoe, and then go ashore for breakfast and a good long sleep. The rapid had been run so easily by Charley in the night that they rightly imagined they would find no difficulty in running it by daylight. Tom took Charley in the _Twilight_, and the fleet, with Harry leading the way, passed through the rapid without accident. The boys could not but wonder how Charley had escaped the rocks in the darkness, for the rapid, which was much the roughest and swiftest they had yet seen, seemed to be full of rocks.

Not very far below the rapid the missing canoe was discovered aground in an eddy. She was uninjured; and as there was a sandy beach and plenty of shade near at hand, the boys went ashore, made their breakfast, and lying down on their rubber blankets, slept until the afternoon.

It was time for dinner when the tired canoeists awoke, and by the time they had finished their meal and were once more afloat it was nearly three o'clock. They ran three more rapids without any trouble. Their canoes frequently struck on sunken rocks; but as they were loaded so as to draw more water aft than they did forward, they usually struck aft of midships, and did not swing around broadside to the current. When a canoe struck in this way, her captain unjointed his paddle, and taking a blade in each hand, generally succeeded in lifting her clear of the rock by pushing with both blades against the bottom of the river. In the next rapid Joe's canoe ran so high on a rock that was in the full force of the current that he could not get her afloat without getting out of her. He succeeded in getting into her again, however, without difficulty, by bringing her alongside of the rock on which he was standing, although he had to step in very quickly, as the current swept her away the moment he ceased to hold her.

In running these rapids the canoes were kept at a safe distance apart, so that when one ran aground, the one following her had time to steer clear of her. At Charley's suggestion, the painter of each canoe was rove through the stern-post instead of the stem-post. By keeping the end of the painter in his hand the canoeist whose canoe ran aground could jump out and feel sure that the canoe could not run away from him, and that he could not turn her broadside to the stream by hauling on the painter, as would have been the case had the painter been rove through the stem-post.

"I want to see that Sherbrooke postmaster!" exclaimed Joe, after running what was the seventh rapid, counting from the dam at Magog. "He said there were only one or two little rapids in this river. Why, there isn't anything but rapids in it."

"There's something else just ahead of us worse than rapids," said Charley. "Look at that smoke."