CHAPTER III. THE CAPTAIN MEETS A RASCAL.

The proprietor of the circus was most profuse in his gratitude. He was a gent who, without exaggeration, could be called effulgent. He certainly had a rush of words to the mouth, but I declined to let the flow of gas overcome me, rigidly insisting on my rights, and demanding that he should make good and cough up. Seeing that I could not be bluffed, he finally extended an invitation for me to accompany him to his headquarters at the circus grounds, where he could renumerate me according to his promise.

“I want you to understand,” he said, “that I am a man of my word. I am Samuel P. Slick, proprietor and owner of Slick’s Mammoth Circus and Colossal Aggregation of Wild Beasts.”

“Glad to know you, Mr. Slick,” said I. “I am highly flavored. Lead on, and I will stick to you closer than a porous plaster to a rheumatic shoulder blade.”

Visions of that five hundred percolated through my cerebellum. In fancy I was already fingering various long, green certificates with pictures of presidents upon them. Why, I had that money spent before we even hove in sight of the circus grounds.

Mr. Slick led me to a small tent abaft the main tent. Little Fido followed us cheerfully. As soon as we were inside the small tent, and thus shielded from prying eyes, Mr. Slick sunk his grappling hooks into his trowsers pocket and dragged up a solitary greasy five-dollar bill, which he beamingly offered me.

“Take it, son--take it!” he urged magnanimously. “You deserve it, for that dog of yours is really a wonder.”

“I beg your hasty pudding,” said I, refraining from cleaving unto the fiver; “but haven’t you made a slight mistake?”

“Eh?” said he quickly. “Why, I thought I said five. Is it possible that I said one? Oh, well, never mind; we’ll call it five, just the same, for it certainly was worth it. It’s yours!”

“What under the canister of heaven do you take me for?” I cried warmly. “You said five hundred. Get busy, Mr. Slick, and add about ninety-nine duplicates to that lonesome William.”

Immediately Mr. Slick blew up. He turned purple in the face, and looked like a toad with the colic.

“Why, you young scoundrel,” he roared, “are you trying to bluff me out of a lot of real money? I said I’d give any one five dollars to save my elephant, and I meant it. Under the circumstances, I’m not obliged to pay you a cent, for you didn’t pull the elephant out; it was that there dog that did it. But I can’t give money to a dog, and so----”

He started to put the bill back into his pocket.

I reached right out and secured it.

“I can take money from one,” I remarked, “and that’s just about what you are--and then a few. Unfortunately the United States slanguage does not furnish adjectives suitable to fit your particular case, and, as it happens that I can’t speak French a great deal better than I can speak it, I’ll refrain from attempting the impossible task of telling you just what I think of you. It chances that I’m busted; otherwise I would spurn your filthy lucifer with ignominy.”

I left him in high dudgeon, and went right away from there. I’ll admit that I was extensively sore; but five bones would purchase a beefsteak and trimmings, and I was again languishing with hunger.

We dined, Fido and I, and we went the limit, from _beef a la mud_ to _demi tassles_. When I had tipped the waiter munificently I found that only twenty cents of the late-lamented fiver remained in the exchequer. With that I purchased a flagrant Havana cigar, and again set forth upon my weary tramp toward my predestination.

I think I had left the city about a mile astern, and was slowly oozing along, buried in deep thought, when the sudden consummate blast of an automobubble horn gave me such a start that I jumped about ten feet straight up into the ambient atmosphere.

Now, it happened that the gasoline jaunting car was approaching from behind with considerable acceleration. I am sure the buzz wagon could not have been more than ten rods behind me when the cheffonier blew that blast on his horn, and the blasted thing made me jump.

And the machine was moving with such expedience that when I came down I alighted fairly on the cushioned seat in the tonneau.

By the time I got my breath and quieted the spasmatic beatings of my heart, I realized that I was comfortably languishing in a strictly first-class, up-to-date naughty-mobile that was taking me toward Boston a great deal faster than I could walk.

Besides yours truly, the only other person in the car was the driver, who was so preoccupied with his job of taking the road turns at about seventy miles an hour, that he had not even seemed casually to notice the unceremonious manner in which I had dropped in on him.

The old gocart was a good one. On looking it over with the eye of a cricket, I perceived at once that in the way of such machines it might be called the _ne plus ulster_.

I congratulated myself with impunity. What could be more satisfactory than to make a portion of my journey in this manner? With a sigh of contentment, I settled back, murmuring in dulcet tones:

“Let her rip, old boy! As long as you don’t try to hurdle a stone wall or climb a tree, you can’t feaze little Walter.”

Then came a sudden horrifying thought: My dog--my poor little dog Fido! What had become of him?

I turned to cast my eyes backward, but, fearing I might not recover them if I did so, I refrained, and simply looked.

That is, I tried to look, but the course astern was simply blotted out by a cloud of dust. There was so much dust in the air that it seemed to crowd itself for room. I felt sure we were tearing up the solid earth at such a rate that where the road had been there would remain nothing but a long, deep ditch after we had passed over it.

Poor little Fido! Would I ever again behold my faithful little quinine companion? I feared not.

In a short time, however, we struck a long strip of macadamized bullyvard, and, again looking round, I pereevered that we were no longer distributing the highway over the adjacent country.

Imagine my unbounded amazement and joy on discovering my little dog a few rods abeam, coming like the wind, his eyes protruding like glass doorknobs, and something like a yard and a half of his tongue hanging from his mouth. He was simply making tremendous endeavors to keep up with that car, which now seemed to be only occasionally connecting slightly with the extremely remote elevations--and he was practically doing it.

But I realized that this could not last long. Speedy as he surely was, Fido could not continue to hit it up at something better than a mile a minute for more than forty or fifty miles without eventually becoming weary and discouraged.

On the spur of the momentum I decided that something must be done.

Then I called to little Fido, making at the same time an encouraging genuflexion with my lily-white hand. He responded at once with a tremendous burst of speed and a flying leap that brought him sailing over the back of the machine into the tonneau beside me.

TO BE CONTINUED.

A DIVER’S GREATEST DANGER.

The greatest enemy of the diver is paralysis, and this, strangely enough, is not caused by sending him into the sea, but in carelessly taking him out of it. In bringing a diver to the surface from any great depth, as much as half an hour is spent in what is known as “staging” him. He is brought up to a certain depth from the surface and there held, while he fights vigorously with arms and legs to quicken the circulation temporarily, and so to assist in sweeping the excess of nitrogen out of the tissues of the body. This excess of nitrogen, forced into the blood under pressure of air and water, is the cause of diver’s paralysis. At various depths before reaching the surface, the good diver, who understands what causes paralysis, will “stage” and prepare himself to leave the water. Once on the deck of the lugger, he will rest and recover himself for another descent, and so throughout the day.

PRESENCE OF MIND.

A passenger on a transatlantic liner had been sick for five days in succession. One evening he felt somewhat better, and promenaded the saloon for some time. About ten o’clock he thought of retiring to his stateroom, which was on the upper deck. Before leaving the saloon he sought the steward and said:

“I want you to send me some hot water for shaving at half past six in the morning. Will you remember it?”

The steward promised, and the passenger started up the saloon companionway. The steps were brass-covered and very slippery. He reached the first landing all right, but slipped on the first step of the second and came rattling all the way down again. He was picked up rather battered, but not a bit disconcerted.

“Steward,” he said gravely, “I just came back to tell you not to forget that hot water at half past six in the morning.”

NEWS ITEMS OF INTEREST.

Declares He Fasted for Fifty-one Days.

Charles B. Champion, grain man, of Fort Worth, Texas, is boasting about a fasting feat which he believes surpasses all long-distance records in the abstinence line. But he did not go out to win any “noneats” record primarily.

His health was poor. He had read that the stomach was frequently abused by the callous and indifferent manner in which it is burdened with more or less indigestible substances, and decided to give it a rest.

He concluded a little trip “back to nature” would produce desirable results. He took his family with him to the mountains of Pennsylvania and there emulated the mendicant who has “had nothing to eat for three days.” But he went the average street-corner solicitor of alms one better. Also, he vied with a certain brand of medical wizards who had gone without food longer than the ordinary man cares to.

For fifty-one days he took no food, and drank only water. At the end of his fasting period, although he had lost thirty-nine pounds in weight, he was declared physically sound by physicians. During his fast he experienced no discomfort, and spent enjoyable days whipping the streams near his camp for trout, and in long tramps over the country.

Governor Doused When Gun Kicks.

While on a shooting expedition along the St. Francis River, in Missouri, with Governor Hays, of Arkansas, Governor Major, of Missouri, got a cold bath. The two governors were crossing a bayou in a canoe. Governor Hays fired at a duck and missed. Governor Major dropped his paddle, and, standing half erect, blazed away. The kick of the gun knocked him into the water. The Arkansas governor managed to reach him and draw him back in the canoe. Each killed a deer before leaving the canebrakes.

Beachey Loops the Loop.

Lincoln Beachey, the aviator, looped the loop twice in the air above North Island, California, recently. Starting at a height of 2,500 feet, he dropped straight downward into the first loop and immediately turned over again into the second, landing afterward. At no time, seemingly, was there any loss of control. Beachey said he would repeat the performance.

Beachey’s feat of looping the loop with a biplane fitted with an upright motor upset the theory of experts, who had asserted that nothing but a revolving motor, such as the Frenchman Pegoud used, could carry an aëroplane over the top of the loop. Beachey said the loop was much easier of achievement than flying upside down. He made several upside-down flights at North Island.

Little Pig by Parcel Post.

Under the protecting wing of Uncle Sam and in care of the employees of the mail department, a little white Chester pig, four weeks old, celebrated his birthday recently by visiting Montpelier, Vt., for the first time, arriving on the afternoon mail train by parcel post, in what was probably one of the “softest” journeys ever taken by a “piggie,” at least in that part of the country, at any rate it was the first of the “pig nationality” to ever arrive in that city in this manner.

A very much surprised man was Frank Muzzy, janitor at the C. V. station, who carries the mail to the post office, when a small crate was passed out of the car, containing a little white “grunter,” and as long as a precedent has been established on animals, Frank is wondering whether or not he may get a box of snakes by the same route some day.

Passengers and people waiting at the station flocked around the crate, which was piled high upon the mail bags, showing great interest in the strange parcel, which was at once taken to the post office, and within an hour or so, a government employee had delivered the strange shipment to William I. Brown. The little animal was shipped from Robinson, Vt., by Joseph King.

The postage on the little traveler amounted to 43 cents.

Polonium as Medicine.

Sir William Ramsay, of England, discussing the properties of radium at a meeting of the British Radium Corporation recently, said there were other substances in the radium ores which had not so far been exploited from a therapeutic point of view. He hoped that polonium, which was perhaps the most easily produced, might prove to possess therapeutic qualities for the treatment of diseases which had hitherto not been treated.

Polonium, said Sir William, was somewhat analogous to selenium and tellurium, and also to bismuth, the therapeutic qualities of which had been tested. Those three elements remained in the system for some length of time, and then were excreted, but had practically no therapeutical qualities. Polonium differed from them entirely in that it gave off alpha rays, just the same as radium did, and he could not help believing that the potency of radium for therapeutic purposes depended upon the alpha rays.

Radium could not be administered as medicine to human beings, as it was too expensive, and probably too dangerous, but the three substances he had mentioned were eliminated in about three months, and his impression was that polonium might produce its effects for about that time and then be eliminated.

Bill Dahlen Out.

Bill Dahlen, manager of the Brooklyn National Baseball Club, has been given his unconditional release. Dahlen had held the place for four years. He was famous as a shortstop.

Lost Hand in Experiment.

With a book on “Experimental Science” at his call, Godfrey Meier, junior, fifteen years old, tried an experiment in the back yard of his home in New York, after school one day recently. Just what his experiment consisted of the police could not learn, but the result was an explosion, which blew off the fingers of the boy’s right hand and so lacerated the hand that it was amputated in Flower Hospital.

When his mother asked him what caused the accident he said he was playing with a magneto. The police think, however, that he had got hold of a fulminating cap or something of the kind. At the time of the accident a four-year-old nephew of Godfrey was standing only a few feet away. The child was knocked down, but was not injured.

Wireless News to Train.

For the first time on record, news bulletins taken by wireless were displayed on a moving train recently. Passengers on No. 3 on the Lackawanna Railroad were astonished to see the latest foreign and home dispatches spread before their eyes as they were being whirled along at sixty miles an hour between Scranton and Binghamton, Pa.

The Scranton _Times_ sent 250 words from the Lackawanna wireless station to the moving train. One was on the battle in Mexico, another regarding the strike in Schenectady, another relating to the dilemma in Washington with respect to landing marines in Mexico.

When the train left Hoboken the wireless apparatus was somewhat disabled, as a generator had burned out. The operator, however, was able to take dispatches and give the passengers a news service unique in history.

“To think we didn’t have it for the world’s series!” mourned an excited Chicago man.

He Prefers the Family Nag.

Wabash County, Indiana, has at least one resident who has never ridden on a railroad train, street car, or automobile, and whose fastest rate of travel is limited to the speed of his horse. This man is Jonathan Beal, who has lived in New Holland, a village in the eastern part of the county, for the last sixty years, having moved there with his parents when about fifteen years old. Mr. Beal is of the opinion that his family nag can go fast enough for all practical purposes.

Mr. Beal travels little, and his journeys during the last threescore years have been confined almost wholly to trips to Wabash, the county seat, eleven miles from his home. In making the trip he always uses his horse, and has refused many invitations to ride in a machine.

Though motor cars hourly pass his home, he never sees a train, only when in Wabash, as no railroad touches New Holland.

Operate on Human Heart.

Probably the most daring chapter in modern surgery is that which treats of operations on the heart, says the _World’s Work_. “The road to the heart is only two or three inches long, but it has taken surgery nearly 2,600 years to traverse it,” is one writer’s striking remark. How recent this work is, is made plain from the fact that a book published by Stephen Paget, in 1895, contained a chapter on “Surgery of the Heart,” the words being contemptuously inclosed in quotation marks.

The scientist, as well as the layman, looked upon the heart with an almost superstitious awe. Any injury necessarily implied death; any interference with such an injury could only hasten the end. Yet many shrewd observers in the course of the ages had noted that all heart wounds did not result in instantaneous death.

It was not until ten or fifteen years ago that surgeons began to act upon this knowledge. In exceptional cases death did not result immediately from a heart wound; there were intervals of a few days or a few weeks. Why not utilize the interval in an attempt to sew up the wound? Medical history now reports many successful operations of this kind.

An especially noteworthy one, performed upon an Alabama negro boy in 1902, illustrates the resources of modern heart surgery. This boy had been the victim of an especially nasty stab wound. The knife had penetrated the apex of the heart and passed into the left ventricle, making a wound nearly half an inch long. When the boy was placed upon the operating table, in the little negro cabin, the signs of death had already appeared. His feet were cold and his face showed signs of the utmost distress. The surgeon made a little, windowlike opening just above the heart. Through this they could readily see the injured organ, the blood spurting from the wound at each pulsation. One surgeon put in his hand, pulled the heart upward, and held it while another sewed the wound with catgut.

The operation--performed without an anæsthetic--lasted fifty-five minutes; on the sixteenth day the boy was sitting up; in a short time his heart was as good as ever.

Fear Rube Waddell is Dying.

In spite of his belief that he was suffering only from a slight attack of bronchitis, “Rube” Waddell, once a great baseball pitcher, has left Minneapolis to begin a battle with tuberculosis, at his sister’s home in San Antonio, Texas.

A short time ago a story was current that he had fallen a victim to the white plague, but he scoffed at the idea, and said he was suffering from a severe cold.

Since then he has been growing steadily weaker, and has been in bed for several days. His physicians fear that Waddell’s chances for recovery are slight.

Ruse of Girl Who Desired to Marry.

When Martha J. Mayers, sixteen, applied for a marriage license at Fort Collins, Colo., she told the clerk that she was over eighteen. She insisted in court the next day that she was telling the truth.

She explained to County Judge Fred W. Stover that before going for the license she had placed a piece of paper with the figures eighteen written on it in her shoe so that she could truthfully say she was over eighteen.

The girl declared that her grandmother had told her of the scheme.

Bert B. Cain, who was arrested for perjury following the marriage to the sixteen-year-old girl, was held under bond.

Man Wanders Fifty Hours.

Fifty hours without food or sleep, Harry L. Sommerville, manager of the Savoy Hotel, at North Yakima, Wash., wandered into the store in the Nile, in the headwaters of the Tieton basin, and later arrived in North Yakima. With W. W. Stratton, Roy Gilbert, and a man named Mulligan, Sommerville went hunting near Bumping Lake. He started from the camp to meet another of the party. He crossed a ridge and missed the other man. When the hour of the appointment passed Sommerville found that his worn tennis shoes with rubber soles were so slippery that he could not mount the side of the ridge again over the wet logs and pine needles.

“I had no feeling of fear at any time. I did not dare to go to sleep at night because of the cold in the mountains, but kept pushing on slowly. It seemed to me that I traveled a thousand miles, but it appears on the map to be only about thirty.”

Indian Wins Cotton Prize.

Jack Postoak, a full-blooded Mississippi Choctaw Indian, living in Carter County, Okla., won the sweepstake prize for cotton over competition of all the world at the International Dry Farming Congress, at Tulsa. He also won over all competitors at the New State Fair, at Muskogee. The contest required a showing in six different stages of cotton growing--seed, seed cotton, hulls, stalks, bolls, and lint cotton.

Three years ago Postoak had sold or leased the four allotments in his family, and was preparing to go back to Mississippi because he could not make a living on 1,400 acres of land in Oklahoma. A government agricultural agent induced Postoak to try once more under government supervision. He did, on a little fifty-acre tract of land near Ardmore. In three years Postoak developed from the starving Indian class to a great cotton grower.

Gives Rules for Good Health.

Walk six miles a day.

Live in the fresh air.

Get out in the open in the winter.

Eat proper food.

Keep your body clean.

Sleep well.

If a person follows these rules he will always be healthy, according to Governor W. N. Ferris, who addressed the delegates attending the annual convention of the Michigan Association for the Prevention of Tuberculosis.

Bees Acquire Opium Habit.

The honey bees near Fostoria, Ohio, have contracted the opium habit. Like the Chinese, they get theirs from the poppy. Many residents of Fostoria grow Oriental poppies. The bees have found this out, and of late they are leaving acres of clover blossoms to hunt out the poppy beds.

They work vigorously for an hour or so, and then fall to the ground, apparently as stupefied as are Chinese opium smokers after “hitting the pipe.”

It is said if the bees could only be kept sober, there would doubtless be a great demand for the honey.

The Kaiser Held Up?

A report in circulation at Berlin, Germany, apparently originating in Vienna, is to the effect that the kaiser is about to sell the old Monbijou Palace, now the Hohenzollern Museum. It is asserted that the sale is due to the fact that the recent increase of the emperor’s civil list is insufficient.

There was a similar report some weeks ago regarding the alleged projected sale of a castle in the Rhineland.

Confirmation of the report is not obtainable.

A Family of White Squirrels.

A family of white squirrels, pure white from tip to tip, is making its home in a locust tree near the gate of Captain Wyman X. Folsom’s place, opposite Interstate Park, Taylor’s Falls, Minn.

How they came to be white, Nature, wise old friend of the woodland folk, only knows. But probably they are albino members of the red squirrel race. The freaks were discovered six weeks ago, and now are so tame it is possible to approach within three or four feet of them before there’s a gleam of white dashing up the nearest tree.

George Hazzard, park commissioner, and members of the Folsom household, have been taking particularly good care that nothing happens to them, and perhaps Interstate Park eventually will have a whole race of white squirrels. Anyway, that’s the idea behind the careful care which surrounds the curiosities.

Already, however, unkind fate in the form of a mean old cat has evaded the guardians, and one young squirrel’s life has been forfeited.

“He was one of the nicest of the five,” declared Martin Tangen, druggist and friend of Nature’s children. Now the two old squirrels are doing their best to keep their two remaining children from other harm.

Houses have been built for the white denizens, and they are to have an easy time this winter, according to the plans of Commissioner Hazzard, for proper food will be available, no matter how hard the earth freezes at the base of their locust tree.

Back-pension Pay Good as Fortune.

Frank Ferris, seventy-nine, of Atchison, Kan., who served during the Civil War in the Third Regiment of Missouri Infantry, applied for a pension in 1890, but because he could not produce his discharge he was denied one. He kept on in his efforts to prove that he was a soldier, and some time ago secured the help of United States Senator Thompson.

Recently the adjutant general of Missouri, in going through the records that were kept in that office during the war days, discovered the dates of both the mustering in and discharge of Ferris, and on the strength of this the pension will be allowed.

He will receive $30 a month and back pay for twenty-three years at the rate of $12 a month, or more than $3,000 in all.

Ferris is a carpenter, and a poor man. His wife is nearly eighty years old. There is general rejoicing.

Reception Room for Warship Crew.

Secretary Daniels, of the navy, approved plans for a reception and reading room for enlisted men on the new battleship _New York_. Mr. Daniels said the provision was a new departure, and has been inaugurated to increase the comfort of the crew and add to the attractiveness of the ship for enlisted men and their visitors when in port. Similar changes probably will be inaugurated on other vessels.

Calf Has no Tail.

A valuable Holstein cow, belonging to F. L. Sweet, of North Adams, Mass., has given birth to a handsome calf which, strange to say, has no tail. Sweet prizes the calf very highly, and jokingly remarked that he might have it “retailed.”

Fewer Free Seeds? Statesmen Angry.

Secretary Houston, of the department of agriculture, is “in bad” with numerous members of Congress because he has recommended that the distribution of ordinary vegetable and flower seeds be discontinued. Carloads and carloads of these seeds have been distributed free under postal franks of congressmen and senators, the cost being about $300,000 a year. Secretary Houston wants to devote part of the money to the distribution of new and valuable seeds and plants, on a smaller scale.

Walking Hencoop Arrested.

A policeman in the outskirts of St. Louis, Mo., saw a man whose form was anything but a perfect thirty-six. His coat looked as if some tailor had settled an old grudge in the general fit, and he fidgeted along like a person who is harboring a bee.

Suspicious, the officer pursued the man and lifted his coat. Three fowls cackled gratefully to the ground. The officer asked for an explanation, and the portable hencoop informed him that the chickens flew into his coat to get warm.

The police regulations prohibit the belief of anything as rough as that, and the man was arrested.

Shot Found in Her Appendix.

Surgeons of the Harrisburg, Pa., Hospital removed from the appendix of Mrs. Reuben Ulrich, of Seline Grove, Pa., two grains of the shot with which her husband killed a rabbit last week. Mrs. Ulrich ate a part of the rabbit.

Passes Dog Off as Baby to Take it on a Train.

Because it would cost $1 fare for her dog, while babies could ride free, a Mrs. Welchel, of near Lead Hill, Ark., recently “put one over on the railroad company” by dressing her pet dog in baby clothes.

When Mrs. Welchel, with the “baby,” climbed aboard the hack to Lead Hill, Fido let loose a series of barks. “Her hand exposed,” Mrs. Welchel turned back a veil, and from the bundle of supposed humanity there appeared the head of a fice.

Conductor Clyde Miller, when told of the success of the ruse, merely remarked: “It takes a woman to beat the road.”

Leg Buried With His Body.

Valentine Weisenberger’s right leg, which was amputated twelve years ago, was brought from the undertaker’s dead room and placed in Weisenberger’s coffin to be buried with the rest of the body at Fort Wayne, Ind., recently.

When Weisenberger’s leg was amputated he ordered it delivered to an undertaker with instructions for the latter to embalm it and keep it for the complete burial. His orders were followed.

Smallest High-school Boy.

George Fielding, a freshman in the Brazil, Ind., High School, is the smallest pupil who ever entered the school. He is 2 feet 10 inches high. He stands well in his studies. His home is at Carbon.

“Some Punkins.”

There are 500 pumpkins on one vine which covers an eighth of an acre on Doctor R. G. Sloan’s farm, at Little River, S. C. One of the pumpkins weighs 100 pounds.

No Reason for Egg Famine.

Although the country faces something like an egg famine to-day, the number of eggs produced in this country has increased more rapidly than the population, according to the census bureau. Between 1899 and 1909 the population increased 11 per cent, but the egg production grew 23 per cent.

This estimate does not include the large number of eggs produced by amateur poultrymen in the suburbs of cities. It shows merely the farm product.

The price of eggs paid to the farmers in that period advanced an average of about 11 cents to an average of 19 cents.

Illinois enjoyed the cheapest egg supply. The price there in 1912 varied from 22 to 28 cents a dozen. In New York it was 29 cents to 41 cents.

The estimated production of eggs for 1913 is 1,734,529,000 dozen, an average of 17.7 dozen per capita. In 1909 the production was only 1,591,311,000 dozen.

Curley, the Crow, Still Living.

“Curley, the Crow,” the only survivor of the Custer massacre, a half-blood Sioux scout, is in his seventy-second year. He declares that the famous painting, “Custer’s Last Stand,” does not truly represent the scene, since it shows scalped and mutilated American soldiers on the field of battle at Little Horn, where, on June 24, 1876, Custer and practically all of his command perished. “There was no scalping and no mutilation,” says Curley. “Four hundred and seventy-three soldiers were killed, and not a mark was found on them that was not made by bullets. I was General Custer’s scout, and he had sent me for re-enforcements the night before the battle. I was returning with Captain Bentline and his command. While I was still a long way off my horse was shot from under me, and I got down and ran until I came into the thick of the fighting. As I got there, I saw the soldiers were lying dead right and left. Those four hundred and seventy-three had been surrounded by six thousand Sioux. I saw Custer fighting with his saber, and I thought he was the last man alive there, but I soon saw that his brother, Lieutenant Tom Custer, was fighting beside him. He fell, and General Custer then stood alone. The Indians could easily have killed him before that, but the purpose was to take him alive. Fourteen Indians whom he had slashed and gashed with his saber lay near him, most of them dead or dying. I called to General Custer, meaning to tell him of General Reno’s refusal to come, and he said, ‘You here, Curley? We’ll fight to the end.’ Those were his last words. A big Sioux seized his arm, and Custer turned on him and dealt a terrible saber stroke that half cut his head off. As he did this, the son of the Sioux fired his rifle at Custer, and the bullet went through his heart. I pushed through toward Custer as he fell. I held his head as he sank back dead.”

Changes in Water-polo and Swimming-race Rules.

Radical changes in the rules that came up for consideration were passed upon favorably at the annual meeting of the Intercollegiate Swimming Association held at the New York Athletic Club a few days ago. Most of them affected water polo, and all were proposed by the graduate advisory board, a committee created last winter, when the managers and captains of the various college teams, after encountering all sorts of trouble with the rules in vogue, decided the matter ought to be placed in the hands of competent and experienced veterans of the sport.

The work of this committee, judging from the report, was thorough. Water polo came in for most of their attention, they asserted, because it was that division that had created most dissatisfaction. With an eye toward making the contests less one-sided than heretofore, the board ruled that in future the ball be given to the team scored against after each goal.

A second change was the substitution of three periods for two in every game, to alleviate the tax on the strength and stamina of the players, and another was an amendment permitting a player to return to the game after he had once been withdrawn. The object of the latter ruling is to decrease the size of the visiting squad and thereby reduce their traveling expenses. The value of this change cannot be overestimated, for the matter of expenses has been the bugbear that has retarded the development of the sport among the colleges.

The elimination of the one and a half Flying Dutchman from the list of legal dives was another important amendment. The dive was considered too dangerous for collegians, several serious accidents having resulted at dual meets within the last few years.

There was one subject, however, over which the advisory board and the college representatives failed to agree, and that was the question of eliminating the plunge from the list of events to make room for the back stroke. The board favored the change on the ground that the plunge was not an interesting event from a spectator’s standpoint, that it did not develop swimmers, and that it had been stricken off national and Olympic programs. The back stroke was one style of swimming at which Americans had been beaten easily at the last Olympic meet. The delegates, however, voted to refuse the change principally because most of the colleges had first-class plungers on their squads--men capable of winning points.

No other colleges having requested admission into the association, the championship tournament will again be limited to Yale, Princeton, Pennsylvania, Columbia, and the College of the City of New York. To interest other universities in the sport it was agreed to add a special fifty-yard event for all colleges outside of the association in the championship meet.

From Force of Habit.

T. R. Staley, of Brighton, Mich., has a horse of a religious turn of mind. Mr. Staley has many horses, in fact, but each one is assigned to a different duty. The one in question has always been used to convey the family to church, and when not busy on Wednesday or Sunday evenings, is turned into pasture. Saturday, however, Mr. Staley smashed a precedent by hitching the animal up for a drive to the Farmers’ Club. The farm helper drove the animal to the front door and there allowed it to stand, untied. An unusual delay within the Staley abode kept Dobbin standing past the appointed time for departure, and after a few anxious glances, he ambled off in the direction of the Presbyterian Church, where members of the family found him waiting at the regular hour to take them home.

Weakling Dies at 102.

Believed to have such a slender hold on life that he was christened when two days old, Philip Carlyon lived to be the oldest clergyman in the kingdom. He died at Pennance House, Falmouth, England, within six weeks of his 102d birthday. He was ordained in 1836 and retired at the age of 70.

Mr. Carlyon possessed remarkable vitality until within a short period of his death, taking long walks and attending church regularly. He remembered his father lighting a bonfire on receipt of the news of the battle of Waterloo, and was terribly frightened when an effigy of Bonaparte was thrown into the flames, thinking it was a real man.

Mr. Carylon’s youngest brother died at the age of 92.

Cow in Chinese Restaurant.

Consternation was created among patrons of a Chinese restaurant, at Ogden, Utah, when a cow which had been nibbling the grass growing between the cobblestones of the street-car tracks, spied in the window of the restaurant a quantity of green vegetables, and started in after them. Frantic efforts to frighten away the cow proved futile, and Wong Ching, the proprietor, telephoned the police. Patrolman John Russell arrived later and drove the cow to the city pound.

Pays for Stolen Tobacco.

A. A. Bouch, who, twenty-four years ago, conducted a grocery store in Manorville, Ford City, Pa., received the following letter from Edward Cunningham, whose boyhood was passed in Manorville, and who now resides in Pittsburgh:

“All is well with my soul. I have found salvation, and am born again. When I found Jesus He told me to do His will, and to do right by any man I have wronged. I asked Him to forgive me for stealing tobacco. I inclose ten cents for two packages of tobacco which I took from your store twenty-five years ago.”

Facts You May Not Know.

The great mass of steel in the buildings of lower New York is said to affect the compasses of the ships approaching the city.

There are sixteen cables across the north Atlantic Ocean.

It is probable that the Nile contains a greater variety of fish than any other river in the world. An expedition sent by the British Museum brought back 8,000 specimens.

The target on the ground to test the accuracy of aëroplane bomb throwers is sixty feet in diameter. The fifteen-pound bombs are dropped at an elevation of 656 feet.

There are 20,000 kinds of butterflies in the world.

The custom of throwing rice at weddings originated in China.

A patient Englishman has carved the king’s monogram and similar devices on an eggshell.

By the end of 1916 the Chinese army expects to have 1,000 aëroplanes, this year’s budget calling for the purchase of 250.

Boys in a fresh-air school in Buffalo, N. Y., prune the orchard trees on the school grounds, grow catalpa trees for future transplanting, study bird whistles and notes as they hear them in the orchard, and incidentally acquire a valuable insight into the main principles of forestry.

A Clever Football Play.

“I would have given one thousand dollars if that play had gone for a touchdown!” exclaimed Coach F. H. (“Hurry-Up”) Yost, after Quarter Back Tommy Hughitt crossed the Penn’s goal on a fake-kick formation.

Hughitt was called back by Referee Eckersall, and Michigan was penalized for holding in the line--a Michigan man slipped in the mud and grabbed a Penn forward to save himself, and the referee called it holding.

The play was Yost’s masterpiece--the crowning achievement of a career unequaled in football. Never has the Wolverine Wizard conceived a cleverer coup, and never had he taught his men to execute one with more deadly precision.

Football men at the game united in declaring that the fake was the cleverest thing they ever saw on a gridiron. It takes a higher place than Yost’s marvelous triple forward pass, which dazed Penn a year ago.

The play came in the third quarter of the Michigan-Pennsylvania game November 15. Michigan worked the ball to Penn’s thirty-yard line and Captain Paterson was called back for a place kick.

In the Cornell game, a week previous, Paterson kicked goal under identical conditions, and the Penn scouts had reported it.

Quarter Back Hughitt dropped upon one knee, with hands outstretched to receive the ball and place it for Paterson’s educated toe.

Hughitt called the signal and the oval sailed through the air. But the hearts of twenty thousand fluttered when it was seen that Hughitt couldn’t place the ball properly. Paterson stepped forward to kick.

The Pennsylvania forwards were oozing through the line; the secondary defense was closing in; there wasn’t a second to lose as Paterson’s foot swung forward, missing the ball!

But as he missed Hughitt hugged the oval to his jersey, and, jumping to his feet, swept around the Quaker line like a jack rabbit, to plant the ball between the Quaker goal posts, while the Pennsylvania forwards fought desperately to get back through the line they had been purposely permitted to penetrate.

Such was the perfection of plan and execution that thousands did not realize until the next day that it was a Yost coup, and not an accident.

Knife Gives Girl Sight.

Vera Critchfield, five years old, of Barberton, Ohio, blind from birth, to-day is able to see. Her case is only one example of what the State blind commission is doing for the blind children of Ohio. The commission has proved that all children blind from birth are not helplessly blind. One surgical operation removed the film from Vera’s eyes. One or two others will fully restore her sight.

Dream Saves Her Farm.

A dream in which Miss Helen Lochlin, of Bennett, Ill., had a vision of her dead brother directing her where to find a will he executed in 1897 saved her home to her when she was preparing to leave it because of an administrator’s sale.

The will was found by Miss Lochlin, who is more than fifty years old, where the vision told her it was hidden.

Miss Lochlin and her brother Frank lived on the small farm for many years. Frank died in the spring of 1910, and shortly after a partition suit was instituted by another sister, who lives in Denver. With no funds to buy in the share of the estate awarded to the sister by the court, Miss Lochlin was preparing to leave the home.

This will was proved authentic by the witnesses, and, as Miss Lochlin was named executrix by her brother, the estate will not go under the hammer, and she will remain on the farm.

Man Lives Long in Kitchen.

When C. B. Wright, an old soldier and bachelor, sold his home at Argyle, Wis., the other day, to move to Florida, it was discovered that since the death of his mother, fifteen years ago, he had spent his life in the little kitchen of the cottage. Wright said that, in memory of his mother, he had avoided disturbing the other part of the house, not even a pin having been moved. Everything in the rooms had been preserved just as she left it.

* * * * *

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SOME OF THE BACK NUMBERS OF =NEW TIP TOP WEEKLY= THAT CAN BE SUPPLIED

700--Frank Merriwell’s Lively Lads. 701--Frank Merriwell as Instructor. 702--Dick Merriwell’s Cayuse. 703--Dick Merriwell’s Quirt. 704--Dick Merriwell’s Freshman Friend. 705--Dick Merriwell’s Best Form. 706--Dick Merriwell’s Prank. 707--Dick Merriwell’s Gambol. 708--Dick Merriwell’s Gun. 709--Dick Merriwell at His Best. 710--Dick Merriwell’s Master Mind. 711--Dick Merriwell’s Dander. 712--Dick Merriwell’s Hope. 713--Dick Merriwell’s Standard. 714--Dick Merriwell’s Sympathy. 715--Dick Merriwell in Lumber Land. 716--Frank Merriwell’s Fairness. 717--Frank Merriwell’s Pledge. 718--Frank Merriwell, the Man of Grit. 719--Frank Merriwell’s Return Blow. 720--Frank Merriwell’s Quest. 721--Frank Merriwell’s Ingots. 722--Frank Merriwell’s Assistance. 723--Frank Merriwell at the Throttle. 724--Frank Merriwell, the Always Ready. 725--Frank Merriwell in Diamond Land. 726--Frank Merriwell’s Desperate Chance. 727--Frank Merriwell’s Black Terror. 728--Frank Merriwell Again on the Slab. 729--Frank Merriwell’s Hard Game. 730--Frank Merriwell’s Six-in-hand. 731--Frank Merriwell’s Duplicate. 732--Frank Merriwell on Rattlesnake Ranch. 733--Frank Merriwell’s Sure Hand. 734--Frank Merriwell’s Treasure Map. 735--Frank Merriwell, Prince of the Rope. 736--Dick Merriwell, Captain of the Varsity. 737--Dick Merriwell’s Control. 738--Dick Merriwell’s Back Stop. 739--Dick Merriwell’s Masked Enemy. 740--Dick Merriwell’s Motor Car. 741--Dick Merriwell’s Hot Pursuit. 742--Dick Merriwell at Forest Lake. 743--Dick Merriwell in Court. 744--Dick Merriwell’s Silence. 745--Dick Merriwell’s Dog. 746--Dick Merriwell’s Subterfuge. 747--Dick Merriwell’s Enigma. 748--Dick Merriwell Defeated. 749--Dick Merriwell’s “Wing.” 750--Dick Merriwell’s Sky Chase. 751--Dick Merriwell’s Pick-ups. 752--Dick Merriwell on the Rocking R. 753--Dick Merriwell’s Penetration. 754--Dick Merriwell’s Intuition. 755--Dick Merriwell’s Vantage. 756--Dick Merriwell’s Advice. 757--Dick Merriwell’s Rescue. 758--Dick Merriwell, American. 759--Dick Merriwell’s Understanding. 760--Dick Merriwell, Tutor. 761--Dick Merriwell’s Quandary. 762--Dick Merriwell on the Boards. 763--Dick Merriwell, Peacemaker. 764--Frank Merriwell’s Sway. 765--Frank Merriwell’s Comprehension. 766--Frank Merriwell’s Young Acrobat. 767--Frank Merriwell’s Tact. 768--Frank Merriwell’s Unknown. 769--Frank Merriwell’s Acuteness. 770--Frank Merriwell’s Young Canadian. 771--Frank Merriwell’s Coward. 772--Frank Merriwell’s Perplexity. 773--Frank Merriwell’s Intervention. 774--Frank Merriwell’s Daring Deed. 775--Frank Merriwell’s Succor. 776--Frank Merriwell’s Wit. 777--Frank Merriwell’s Loyalty. 778--Frank Merriwell’s Bold Play. 779--Frank Merriwell’s Insight. 780--Frank Merriwell’s Guile. 781--Frank Merriwell’s Campaign. 782--Frank Merriwell in the National Forest. 783--Frank Merriwell’s Tenacity. 784--Dick Merriwell’s Self-sacrifice. 785--Dick Merriwell’s Close Shave. 786--Dick Merriwell’s Perception. 787--Dick Merriwell’s Mysterious Disappearance. 788--Dick Merriwell’s Detective Work. 789--Dick Merriwell’s Proof. 790--Dick Merriwell’s Brain Work. 791--Dick Merriwell’s Queer Case. 792--Dick Merriwell, Navigator. 793--Dick Merriwell’s Good Fellowship. 794--Dick Merriwell’s Fun. 795--Dick Merriwell’s Commencement. 796--Dick Merriwell at Montauk Point. 797--Dick Merriwell, Mediator. 798--Dick Merriwell’s Decision. 799--Dick Merriwell on the Great Lakes. 800--Dick Merriwell Caught Napping. 801--Dick Merriwell in the Copper Country. 802--Dick Merriwell Strapped. 803--Dick Merriwell’s Coolness. 804--Dick Merriwell’s Reliance. 805--Dick Merriwell’s College Mate. 806--Dick Merriwell’s Young Pitcher. 807--Dick Merriwell’s Prodding. 808--Frank Merriwell’s Boy. 809--Frank Merriwell’s Interference. 810--Frank Merriwell’s Young Warriors. 811--Frank Merriwell’s Appraisal. 812--Frank Merriwell’s Forgiveness. 813--Frank Merriwell’s Lads. 814--Frank Merriwell’s Young Aviators. 815--Frank Merriwell’s Hot-head. 816--Dick Merriwell, Diplomat. 817--Dick Merriwell in Panama. 818--Dick Merriwell’s Perseverance. 819--Dick Merriwell Triumphant. 820--Dick Merriwell’s Betrayal. 821--Dick Merriwell, Revolutionist. 822--Dick Merriwell’s Fortitude. 823--Dick Merriwell’s Undoing. 824--Dick Merriwell, Universal Coach. 825--Dick Merriwell’s Snare. 826--Dick Merriwell’s Star Pupil. 827--Dick Merriwell’s Astuteness. 828--Dick Merriwell’s Responsibility. 829--Dick Merriwell’s Plan. 830--Dick Merriwell’s Warning. 831--Dick Merriwell’s Counsel. 832--Dick Merriwell’s Champions. 833--Dick Merriwell’s Marksmen. 834--Dick Merriwell’s Enthusiasm. 835--Dick Merriwell’s Solution. 836--Dick Merriwell’s Foreign Foe. 837--Dick Merriwell and the Carlisle Warriors. 838--Dick Merriwell’s Battle for the Blue. 839--Dick Merriwell’s Evidence. 840--Dick Merriwell’s Device. 841--Dick Merriwell’s Princeton Opponents. 842--Dick Merriwell’s Sixth Sense. 843--Dick Merriwell’s Strange Clew. 844--Dick Merriwell Comes Back. 845--Dick Merriwell’s Heroic Crew. 846--Dick Merriwell Looks Ahead. 847--Dick Merriwell at the Olympics. 848--Dick Merriwell in Stockholm. 849--Dick Merriwell in the Swedish Stadium. 850--Dick Merriwell’s Marathon.

NEW SERIES.

New Tip Top Weekly

1--Frank Merriwell, Jr. 2--Frank Merriwell, Jr., in the Box. 3--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Struggle. 4--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Skill. 5--Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Idaho. 6--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Close Shave. 7--Frank Merriwell, Jr., on Waiting Orders. 8--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Danger. 9--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Relay Marathon. 10--Frank Merriwell, Jr., at the Bar Z Ranch. 11--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Golden Trail. 12--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Competitor. 13--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Guidance. 14--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Scrimmage. 15--Frank Merriwell, Jr., Misjudged. 16--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Star Play. 17--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Blind Chase. 18--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Discretion. 19--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Substitute. 20--Frank Merriwell, Jr., Justified. 21--Frank Merriwell, Jr., Incog. 22--Frank Merriwell, Jr., Meets the Issue. 23--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Xmas Eve. 24--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Fearless Risk. 25--Frank Merriwell, Jr., on Skis. 26--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ice-boat Chase. 27--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ambushed Foes. 28--Frank Merriwell, Jr., and the Totem. 29--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Hockey Game. 30--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Clew. 31--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Adversary. 32--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Timely Aid. 33--Frank Merriwell, Jr., in the Desert. 34--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Grueling Test. 35--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Special Mission. 36--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Red Bowman. 37--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Task. 38--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Cross-Country Race. 39--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Four Miles. 40--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Umpire. 41--Frank Merriwell, Jr., Sidetracked. 42--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Teamwork. 43--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Step-Over. 44--Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Monterey. 45--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Athletes. 46--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Outfielder. 47--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, “Hundred.” 48--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Hobo Twirler. 49--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Canceled Game. 50--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Weird Adventure. 51--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Double Header. 52--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Peck of Trouble. 53--Frank Merriwell, Jr., and the Spook Doctor. 54--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Sportsmanship. 55--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ten-Innings. 56--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Ordeal. 57--Frank Merriwell, Jr., on the Wing. 58--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Cross-Fire. 59--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Lost Team-mate. 60--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Daring Flight. 61--Frank Merriwell, Jr., at Fardale. 62--Frank Merriwell, Jr., Plebe. 63--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Quarter-Back. 64--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Touchdown. 65--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Night Off. 66--Frank Merriwell, Jr., and the Little Black Box. 67--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Classmates. 68--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Repentant Enemy. 69--Frank Merriwell, Jr., and the “Spell.” 70--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Gridiron Honors. 71--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Winning Run. 72--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Jujutsu. Dated December 20th. 73--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Christmas Vacation. Dated December 27th. 74--Frank Merriwell, Jr., and the Nine Wolves. Dated January 3d 1914. 75--Frank Merriwell, Jr., on the Border. Dated January 10th, 1914. 76--Frank Merriwell, Jr.’s, Desert Race.

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Transcriber’s Notes:

Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are mentioned.

Punctuation has been made consistent.

Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

The following changes were made:

p. 9: “My added (”My advice to)

p. 19: Hibbard changed to Pembroke (said Pembroke to)

End of Project Gutenberg's Owen Clancy's Run of Luck, by Burt L. Standish